When Fate Likes You
by Mrs.JonesPeppermintProvider
Summary: Hogsmead is considered one of the luckiest places in the world. After all, it's got the best royal family: King Arthur, Queen Molly, and their seven children. But Ginny, the youngest, doesn't feel lucky. At least, until she meets Harry Potter. HG RHr
1. you meet interesting people

Hogsmeade was a peaceful city, though a busy one. It's was the country's capital, and it housed a large host of characters, from the beautiful hostess at the Three Broomsticks, to the withered old barman at the Leaky Cauldron, to the zany fortune teller Madam Trelawney. It had restaurants, clothing stores, books shops, and it even had a large Quidditch stadium.

However, the best part about Hogsmeade, even better than Zonko's joke shop, was Hogwarts castle, where King Arthur and Queen Molly lived with their 6 sons, William, Charles, Percival, Fredrick, George, and Ronald, and their daughter, Ginevera. Now, all of the royal family was well loved by its people, but Ginevera, or Ginny, as she insisted on being called, was by far the favorite.

Ginny was a beautiful 14-year-old, kind and intelligent, with long copper hair that danced in firelight and huge brown eyes that many a young men had admitted a longing to fall into. She was a playful person, and was responsible for many of the city's most beloved activities, such as Quidditch and chess tournaments, festivals, and plays. She would often wander around the city, talking to people, and enjoying the citizens company, often under disguise, so that she could remain unnoticed.

Such was an activity she was doing now. Ginny, hoping to escape the busy castle, had ventured out into the city under a different name. She did not do this often, but as the wedding between her brother Percival, and the daughter of an important ministry official drew closer, she was leaving more and more often.

Ginny sighed as she wandered through a magical rug and trunk shop. This was the 5th marriage the castle had gone through, that involved one of her brothers. The first was William, or rather, Bill. Bill had gone as a peace ambassador to the neighboring kingdom of Bulgaria, and when he had come back, he had brought with him a French fiancée, the beautiful Miss Fleur Delacour. Then her brother Charlie had gone to visit a dragon reserve for a year. He had met Tonks, an Auror who had refused to tell Ginny her first name the first time they met. The couple were married a year later.

Fred and George had gone and gotten married together, as the twins had done everything in their life. They had met two young Quidditch players, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, while they had been playing on the Hogsmead national team. The two couples had eloped, but after a few tears from their mother and some choice words from their father, the twins had agreed to come back and have a formal ceremony.

And now it was time for the wedding of her brother Percival. He was to be married to the Minister's daughter, Penelope, in a week's time, and the castle had been in an upheaval. Ginny had spent who knows how long looking at flowers, observing decorations, and writing invitations.

But now, Ginny concluded, was not the time for such stressful thoughts. She had left to take a break from all of the wedding details, and, for Merlin's sake, she was going to have one!

"Err, excuse me?" a soft voice said hesitantly, breaking Ginny out of her daydream. "You're stepping on my book."

Startled, Ginny looked down. A strangely familiar boy, about the same age as her brother Ron, was kneeling down in the dirt, trying to pick up some fallen books. He had jet black hair, and eyes the color of emeralds, only brighter. He also had a soft vulnerability, a quality that added both mystery and sadness to his handsome face that Ginny didn't understand. What she did understand, however, was that this boy was in the most amazing shape.

Ginny smiled at him, bending down to help him retrieve his trodden on items.

"Hi," she said in her brightest voice. "I'm Ginny. What's your name?"

The boy smiled back at her. "Oh, I'm Harry," he said, taking the books from her and reaching over to help her up. "Thanks."

Ginny let him pull her up. Clutching his hand tighter (his blush was so cute!) and deciding she definitely would have remembered their introduction, she asked, "I thought that I knew all of the kids in Hogsmeade. Are you new?"

"Oh, no," said Harry, smiling down at her. "I've lived here my whole life. I work at the Dursley's Driftwood Emporium." He waved vaguely behind him, where a large, rather obnoxious looking building stood.

Suddenly, a loud voice yelled, "Potter!" Harry jumped, letting Ginny's hand slide out of his. Ginny frowned in disappointment.

"Damn Dursley," he muttered. "I've got to go," said Harry a little more clearly, clutching the books closer to his chest, looking rather nervously over his shoulder.

"Potter!" roared the voice again, and a huge, beefy man with blonde hair and no neck appeared in the door way. "Why didn't you come when I first called you?" he yelled at Harry, who bit his lip. Ginny was quite impressed. Harry hadn't flinched at all in the ugly face of Dursley, who was rather scary. However, Ginny was not a princess for nothing, and she summoned a royal glare.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Ginny coldly. She seriously doubted that he deserved that title. "I'm afraid that it was my fault."

"You, boy, get inside!" Dursley hissed at Harry, who turned and ran back inside, throwing Ginny one last glorious grin. Ginny felt a smile break out onto her face.

As Dursley turned back to her, her voice grew cold, and her smile melting off. "I was lost, and I needed directions. I would appreciate it if you didn't yell at the person who was trying to help me."

The beefy man's face immediately lost its harshness, though it looked surprised. "Oh, that's alright Miss. You see, the boy has caused some trouble in the past, and I wouldn't want him scaring the customers!

"Anyways, were you interested in purchasing something? Dursley's Driftwood Emporium, the finest furniture you could ever find," he continued in a much pleasanter tone.

"No, thank you," said Ginny firmly. Without another word, she spun on her heels and marched back toward the palace. Dursley's treatment of Harry had completely ruined her good mood.

However, by the time she had reached her favorite store, Ginny's thoughts had drifted away from the huge store owner, and back to his slight employee. He had been quite dishy, she concluded. Those bright eyes, that silky black hair, the way his shirt moved across his obviously sculpted chest…

Wandering over to the new products table, her eyes fell on a bottle shaped like an umbrella, a picture of a man with a pig tail on the front. Grinning evilly, with thoughts of over weight, mean, and obnoxious blonde people, she plucked the bottle off of the table, and ran to see if the sister card was working today. After all, what was the point of having joke-shop-owning brothers if one did not get free merchandise?


	2. you get into interesting situations

Disclaimer: Oops, I forgot to do this for the first chapter… Anyways, no, I do not own Harry Potter, nor castles, though I do have some driftwood…

Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favored! They make me feel so great about writing. Also, these chapters have not been beta'ed, so please review and point out any mistakes I have missed.

Harry James Potter, 15-year-old student and back room worker at "Dursley's Driftwood Emporium" was not having a very good day. It had all started this morning, when Petunia, Harry's aunt, had knocked on his door and demanded that he start breakfast. Upon looking in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, Harry had discovered an alarming fact about his person; his hair had been turned blue.

Not that any of the Dursleys could have done it on their own, of course. True magic wielders, like Harry, were not born very often, maybe ten or so a year. Otherwise, when magic did appear, it was usually a very faint ability, like being able to make fruit stay fresh longer or something of the sort. The only time magic was counted on to appear was when it was confined with in a family. Those families blessed with magic were usually nobility, or in the very least enormously wealthy. For instance, heirs to the throne were nearly always magical. There was no other way for them to keep their position.

Because of this, magical jokes were usually rather rare. That is, unless there were two royals who had an insane obsession with them. Fred and George Weasley, the Twins of Trouble, as "The Daily Prophet" once nicknamed them after they had magicked the whole of Hogsmeade pink, had caused the scandal of the year when they had decided to leave Hogwarts immediately after their 17th birthday, and open a joke shop in town. After its opening two years prior, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' magical pranks had slowly become a part of everyday life. It was no longer uncommon to hear odd booms and turn to see canaries chasing friends, or children mysteriously getting fevers on test days.

Nor was it unusual to wake up and find one's hair, or any other part of the body, multicolored. Unfortunately for Harry, the Dursley's were not nearly as understanding as most citizens of Hogsmeade were. It was no matter that Dudley Dursley had probably been the one to pull this prank (Harry was, in fact, quite impressed. Harry had not thought Dudley the brain capacity to sneak up on him). Harry would be blamed, and punished, probably with extra chores or some other mindlessly annoying job.

Harry had been quite right. After being yelled at by his aunt for 20 minutes about his "no-good-attitude" and his "blatant disregard of others people's feelings" by having the gale to attempt to perform a prank which had "obviously backfired", Harry was left with 10 minutes to run the three mile trail to the castle. The reason his school was at the castle was very simple in principal, and extremely complicated in practice. Harry could do magic. He didn't know how he had gotten this ability, and he didn't know how the school of magic Hogwarts hosted had found out, but on Harry's 11th birthday, a thick envelope that changed Harry's life arrived in the hand of a very large man named Hagrid. Hagrid had explained about the school rooms located a in a secluded area of the castle grounds, and about how every magical student was needed for training, seeing as there were so few of them.

Of course, Harry's aunt and uncle had not been happy. In fact, they had been furious. However, after a few carefully chosen words from the court wizard/ Headmaster, Dumbledore, they had had to concede. Harry had actually been surprised they argued at all. Nine months with Harry gone, and the bill mysteriously being taken care of, his relatives should have jumped at the chance! Instead, Aunt Petunia had insisted on Harry just being a day student, instead of taking board in the castle with the rest of the students. He can walk, she insisted.

Harry had made it through the gates 30 seconds after the bell which, had this happened on the field, would have gotten him a new record. However, being that this was before school, it was not nearly good enough, and Harry was awarded another lecture, this time about how punctuality was a virtue, and how tardiness was the mark of the devil.

From there, the day spiraled downward. He discovered that, in his haste, Harry had left both his Potions and Defense notebooks at home. This rewarded Harry with a detention from his Potions teacher and a bonus assignment from his Defense teacher. Then, the coach of his Quidditch team, told him that there would be no practice that day, because their captain had gotten caught in a cauldron explosion resulting in her skin, eyes, hair, and tongue changing color (Harry felt quite bad for Katie, but Quidditch was the only bright spot in his day, and to lose it put him in a very bad mood).

In fact, the only good thing that happened at school was that his best friend Hermione was able to lift the hair charm. Hermione too was a witch from a non-magical family. Her parents were dentists. However, this did not stop her from being one of the top magic students in the country. She was so smart, in fact, that recently Dumbledore had had to move her into classes with royalty, who had been trained from birth, from the normal classes, which were quite a bit behind. This meant, of course, that Harry didn't get to see her as much, and while he was extremely please for her success, he was a bit put out about it. The fact that today, of all days, was Harry's first day primarily without Hermione did nothing to brighten his mood.

"So, are your classes over for the day?" asked Harry. He hoped Hermione still ended her day at the same time as he did.

"Well, actually, I, well, I agreed to help my study partner. Ron didn't understand something from one of my classes," said Hermione apologetically. "He was really sweet about it, and he really needs help and—"

"Hold on," interrupted Harry. "Did you just say Ron? As in Ronald? As in _Prince _Ronald? That's who you've been meeting up with all summer?" Hermione's blush said everything. "Oh," said Harry rather blankly. He muttered good bye and took off in the opposite direction.

He knew that he was being silly, and that just because they weren't in the same class didn't mean they couldn't be friends, but Harry felt as though this was but another wall that had sprung up between the two of them lately. Hermione had been his best friend, his sister, since they had been 11. He didn't want to lose her.

Harry had almost made it past the gates when Professor Termaine caught him.

"Mr. Potter," said the Potions teacher sternly. "Did you forget the detention you have today?"

Harry groaned. He had forgotten. The professor frowned.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter."

###

Harry left that day trying to rub the circulation back into his fingers. Professor Termaine had made him clean out the used potions bin; in other words, Harry had spent the last two hours picking frog guts out of gutters and washing slime off of shards of glass left from broken potions bottles.

Harry was not feeling very cheerful. He took a malicious sort of pleasure walking home. He took nearly twice as long getting home as he usually did, just to annoy the Dursley's. It was not like they could, or would do anything, he thought viciously. Besides needing Harry's help too much, the fact that he could do magic placed him into a position of fear in their lives.

When the hour had finally grown so old that Harry could not excuse his absence any longer, he wearily began to trudge home. The long walk had washed away all of his anger, and all that was left was a resigned sense of fatigue. He knew that he would probably be in for a long and boring lecture from Vernon, and he was really not in the mood.

The streets of Hogsmeade were still alive and bustling when Harry arrived. The fairy light adorning the shops, and the floating candles that were just beginning to be lit gave the street a magical feeling, though the mad masses of people helped dispel that notion, thought Harry rather bitterly, as a well dressed man crashed in to him, knocking Harry's books to the floor. The man sent a sneer Harry's way, his "watch where you're going" drowning out Harry's polite "excuse me". Harry sighed. Bending down to gather his books back up, a small, dainty foot landed on one. Harry resignedly looked up to address the person. The minute he saw her face, he forgot what he was going to say.

Looking straight ahead, not even noticing him, was a goddess. Her silhouette was shadowed, outlined by the setting sun's colored rays, her fiery hair like fire and silk, intricately dancing around each other. Her eye's, much, much too large to be real, were the lightest chocolate, the sparkle held within them both kind and amused.

She seemed to be thinking rather hard about something, noted Harry. Her lips curved in the slightest of frowns, and she had a lock of that glorious hair between her thumb and fore finger, rolling back and forth, back and forth.

"Excuse me," said Harry yet again. His voice seemed to come from a very distant place. The goddess girl looked down. "I, ah, I think you're standing on one of my books."

She sent a bright, apologetic smile his way, nearly leaving Harry blind, and then she bent down to help him pick them up. Harry felt shivers run across his spine when their hands meet.

"Hi," she said, gathering the last of his belongings. "I'm Ginny. What's you're name?"

Her voice was just as beautiful as he had imagined.

"Oh, I'm Harry," said Harry, a shy smile of his own creeping onto his face. "Thanks," he added, reaching down to help Ginny up. She allowed him to help her to her feet, giving Harry's hand a little squeeze before intertwining her fingers through his. Harry could feel a traitorous blush spread across his face.

"I thought I knew all of the kids in Hogsmeade. Are you new?"

"Oh, no, I've lived here my whole life. I work at the Dursley's Driftwood Emporium," Harry said, waving behind him and biting his bottom lip. Stop babbling! He thought to himself furiously.

"Potter!" roared a painfully familiar voice.

Oh, Merlin, thought Harry. Not him! Please not him! Not now!

Harry's prayers were ignored, and Uncle Vernon sent Harry inside. He listened at the door, mortified, as his uncle prattled on about his two favorite subjects; sales, and what a bad influence Harry was on everyone around him. Harry closed his eyes, even though he knew no one could see him. What a prat Ginny must think him! He could already hear her melodious voice go cold, and could just imagine those bright eyes shimmering. Harry cringed, hoping Ginny wouldn't think too badly after his uncle was through.

Harry's heart gave an odd sort of leap as he heard Ginny defend him. He nearly cheered when she effectively shut his uncle down, mid-sales pitch. She had one of the most authoritative voices Harry had ever heard! He knew there would be hell to pay later, but for now it was completely worth it.

Harry was completely right. After Ginny had marched away, Vernon had stomped in, sending his customary glare Harry's way. Harry thought Uncle Vernon was very lucky there weren't any potential buyers in at that moment. They would have scuttled away from a glare a fourth the intensity. As it was, Harry was quite glad to duck down under the counter.

"So, boy, what's your excuse this time?" growled Uncle Vernon. "You're hours late! Did you stop to talk to every girl on you're way home? Are you really that desperate?"

Harry said nothing. These rants of his uncles' were very common, and they all seemed to be centered on topics Harry would never want to discuses with Hermione, much less Uncle Vernon. Harry had never seen his uncle last more than a few minutes, but they were rather uncomfortable minutes.

"Here," grumble Vernon after he had finally wound down, holding out a piece of paper filled with writing. "These are your chores."

As Vernon stalked off, muttering something about needing a strong brandy, Harry stared at the 14 item list in dismay. He had mere hours to complete his chores, or else he would most likely not be getting dinner. Harry sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day. He knew he should have stayed in bed this morning.


	3. you just might find good luck

Disclamer—see chapter two

AN: ok, everyone, I know it can be rather annoying to have authors constantly asking for reviews, but, seriously, over 200 hits, and only 4 reviews? Please, please review, even if it's only to say you like, or dislike this story!

Since Quidditch was one of the few sports that actually required magical talent, few countries had more than one professional team. Since it was one of the most dangerous, Quidditch was also the most popular.

Harry loved Quidditch. Harry loved the adrenaline pumping through his veins like molten lava. He loved the way his stomach seemed to swoop every time he dived. He loved the crowds, and the cheers, and the way his heart seemed to pound stronger when they won. But, most of all, Harry loved flying. The feel of freedom, of leaving everyday life behind in search of a better Utopia, was more magical than all the classes at Hogwarts. And, to top it all off, flying was what Harry did best.

Harry had been on the lower Hogwarts team since he was 11 years old. He had been the youngest Quidditch player in a century, and if the local nobility hadn't kicked up such a fuss, Harry would have been one the few common children to ever make it to the higher Quidditch team.

So when Harry found out that Cedric, the heir to Duke Amos and seeker on the Hogwarts higher team, had been injured days before the Amateur World Cup, his heart had given a strange sort of wobble. Cedric had been of the good sort, Harry knew, and a small part of him felt very sorry for his misfortune, but the larger part of Harry wanted to know who they were bringing in for the replacement. Players from the lower team had been brought up in select emergency cases, but those matches had always been lost, and they had never been of this importance. However, there was no reserve Seeker, and no time to train a new one.

Harry's suspicions turned out to be exactly correct. Four day's after Cedric's injury, Katie cornered him outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts class room.

"Well, Potter," she said grimly. "Looks like we're going to be losing you for a bit. They want you over at the pitch after your last class."

"I have to audition before I'm on the team," Harry reminded her. "I might not make it."

Katie scoffed. "You should have made that team your first year. If they write you off because of birth, they don't deserve to watch Quidditch, much less play it," she said firmly. Harry blushed.

HPHPHPHPHP

The spirit of Hogwarts' higher Quidditch team was pretty low. They had worked extremely hard to make it to the Cup, and now, with Cedric injured and a member of the lower team potentially filling in, their chances weren't looking great.

"Okay, team," said Roger Davies, the team captain. "I know we've had some bad luck recently, and I know our prospects don't look go—"

"You can say that again," growled Zacharias Smith, one of the beaters. There were quite a few nods circulating the room.

"All right, all right," snapped Davies. "We'll just go out there, watch the lower team's seeker, tell him he's not good enough, and find some one else."

"I don't know about that," said Ronald. He had been silent until now, but the minute he opened him mouth, the room had gone quite to listen.

"What do you mean, Ron?" asked Davies. They excused formalities for the sake of practice.

"Well, I have a friend who knows the Seeker. And she said he's very good. Never lost a game."

"But he's common," said Smith bracingly. He emphasized the common part.

Davies sighed. "Let's just go out there and see what happens, okay?"

HPHPHPHPHPHP

The news that Harry Potter, the star of the lower Hogwarts Quidditch team, and youngest player in a century, was finally getting to try out for the higher team, seemed to buzz around the school like a swarm of bees in search of honey. All through the day, people came up to congratulate him, sounding as though he had already won the Cup. When Harry reminded them that he had yet to make the team they, like Katie, scoffed and ignored him. Harry couldn't understand where their confidence was coming from. He certainly didn't feel it.

Harry didn't think that he had ever been so nervous in his life. He knew that this was it. This was his once in a life time shot to show the higher team what he could do. Because the pro's only took the best. And the lower team had never been considered the best.

Harry was at the Quidditch field seven minutes and 43 seconds after his last class. The higher Quidditch team still beat him there.

"Are you Potter?" asked a blond, lazy looking 15 year old. It took Harry a moment to realize that the Count of Surrey sat before him.

"Uh, yes," said Harry, swallowing his fear. It was just Quidditch, he told himself. You need to calm down!

"Well, you're five minutes late!" snapped the Count.

"Smith!" shouted another voice before Harry could snap back (this was a good thing, because what Harry had had in mind could have potentially gotten him thrown in jail). "What do you think you're doing?"

Harry whirled around to see the rest of the team gathered around a tall, serious looking 17 year old with a broom clutched in one hand. Harry's mouth nearly fell open when he realized that it was a Firebolt, one of the best brooms on the market.

"So, you're Harry Potter, the Seeker from the lower team?" asked the 17 year old. Upon seeing Harry's nod, he continued "I'm Roger Davies, son of Sir Davies. I am also the captain of this team, and one of the chasers. This is Terence Higgs, chaser, Orla Quirk, chaser, Prince Ronald, our Keeper, and Terry Boot, beater. You've already meet Smith, who's the other beater."

Harry had to work hard to hide the swell of nerves he felt after each name was said. Even though Davies hadn't emphasized any names, Harry still knew who they were: Roger Davies, son of wealthiest Aurors in Hogwarts; Terence Higgs, who's mother was a Romanian princess, and who's father was a Duke; Orla Quirk, said to be the tremendously well off descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of Hogsmeade; Terry Boot, heir to one of the wealthiest, most powerful, best connected families in the world. And, of course, to top it all off, Hermione's new study partner and youngest son of the King, Prince Ronald.

"So, are you ready to show us what you've got?" asked Davies, looking a little concerned at the way Harry had suddenly paled.

Harry nodded, biting his lower lip. He was a little afraid of what he'd say in this state.

"What kind of broom do you have?" asked Higgs, not unkindly. Harry showed him the Cleansweep 7 he had bought, with his friends and the rest of the lower team's help, a year after joining the team.

"No, no, you can't ride that!" said Davies, looking horrified. "Here, do your try out with this." He held the Firebolt, the precious, insanely expensive Firebolt, out to Harry. Harry gaped at him.

"Wh-what? A Firebolt? No, no sir, I'll stick with the one I've got."

Davies frowned. "They maneuver well. It's near impossible to fall off, as long as you can avoid hitting trees or going too fast."

Harry realized that Davies, and the rest of the team, thought that he was scared. Harry thought back to the hours of work, the generosity of his friends, and just how many people were rooting for him to make this team.

"No," said Harry after a pause. The team looked shocked. "I've been through a lot on this broom, and if I don't make the team, I don't want to start comparing the two."

"And if you make it?" asked Davies cautiously. They both knew how unlikely that was. "I mean, you do know that the higher team has a contract with the Nimbus Company. If they give us Firebolts, we have to use them.

Harry shrugged. "Then I get to say good-bye."

Smith made a rude noise at that, but both Davies and Ronald looked considering at Harry.

"All right," said Davies finally. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he caught a glimmer of respect in the older boy's eyes. The team backed up into the stands, waiting for Harry to take to the sky.

Harry took a deep breath, hoping he had not just made a big mistake. Climbing on his broom, Harry paused, then kicked off as hard as he could, soaring straight into the bright, sunlit sky.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

"He's a commoner!" shouted Smith. His face was red, and his chest was heaving.

"He's also bloody brilliant!" Orla shrieked back. Though she was only 13, Orla had a temper like the heat of a thousand suns.

"Don't swear," said Roger wearily. He recoiled slightly when both Orla and Smith turned their furious gaze on him. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have cared, but as Orla was his baby cousin, there had to be some boundaries.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" yelled Orla, as Smith roared "How could you let him try out?"

The truth was that Roger Davies had no idea what to do. When Cedric had been injured, Roger wasn't too troubled. There were many Seekers just as good, and most of them would jump at the chance to play on the higher Hogwarts team.

Then the Prime Minister had kicked up a fuss, demanding that a citizen from the lower team, in other words, a commoner, be Cedric's replacement. Roger winced at the very memory of it. To have a commoner on their team, two weeks before the Cup? What commoner had the required talent, the amount of training? Roger had decided to just watch the player they sent out, let him down easily, and then find some one else. Cho Chang, a Duchess who Roger knew well, might be available.

But then that kid showed up. Roger knew from the second he laid eyes on the boy that Harry Potter was going to be good. Here was a boy that obviously lived for Quidditch. Roger loved the game enough to spot real, honest-to-god talent, and Harry Potter had real, honest-to-god talent, that was clear, even before he took the air.

However, the minute Potter kicked off, Roger knew he had been wrong. Harry was not a talented Quidditch player. He was like a Quidditch god! Roger didn't think he had ever seen anyone fly so straight, soar so fast, and break so suddenly. And then, oh boy, then his little trick with the dive. Had anyone ever attempted to stand up on their broom and ride it like a surf board? Roger sure hadn't. And all on a Cleansweep 7!

On the other hand, no matter how he looked at it, Roger knew that Potter was common. And that meant that some people would not want him any where near the team, much less at the Cup. The team could face a major split, which would be disastrous in the weeks before the game.

As captain, Roger knew he had to do what was best for the team. And as a future knight, he knew he had to be fair and just in all his dealings. Even the common. Even for the common.

"All right, team," said Roger loudly, climbing onto a table. Orla and Smith paused their argument to listen. They both stared up at him expectantly. "Harry Potter is the best Seeker I have seen in many years. He's on the team."

Orla, Higgs, and Boot all screamed their delight. Smith groaned loudly. Only Prince Ronald stayed quiet. However, the small smile on his face showed Roger he was pleased.

"—he's not even that good!" Smith was still yelling 10 minutes later. Ronald rolled his eyes.

"He's better than Charlie," he said quietly. Roger cheered inside. That would shut Smith up. Prince Charles had been the best Seeker Hogwarts had had in years. If the prince thought Potter was better, well, what was Smith going to do, disagree?

"Alright, folks," said Roger, the grin still on his face. "We're obviously not getting any practice in today. How about we meet up again tomorrow? I'll bring our new Seeker, and we can get a real practice going." This was met, again, with loud cheers.

As everyone packed up and left, Roger pondered how to go about telling Potter he was on the team. He had never gone into the common area, where Potter surely was, and he didn't want to create a scene.

"Trying to figure out how to tell Potter?" asked a dry voice behind him. Roger turned to find Prince Ronald leaning casually against the locker room door. Roger nodded.

"I'll go tell him," offered Ronald. Roger gaped at him. Roger would cause quite a stir walking into the common area, but the Price would cause a riot.

Ronald rolled his eyes, guessing what Roger was thinking. "It's a known fact that my study partner's common. I'll just go looking for her. Potter and her are best friends."

Roger blinked. That was actually a fairly good plan. No one would ever admit it, but most people thought Prince Ronald to be rather dim. At least compared to his brothers.

"Alright," said Roger. "Just… take him aside, ok? I would rather not have to news of a commoner joining the higher team right now."

Ronald nodded once, before turning and walking off in the direction of the castle.

Roger sighed, hoping that he had not just made the biggest mistake of his school career. He did not know what would happen when the school found out about his choice. It would not do for a potential Auror to be shot down because of Quidditch!


	4. A Ron Interlude

AN: short chapter, sorry. It also might be a bit before I update too, seeing as, well, I have to write some more…. :D

Ron knew what people thought of him. He knew that most of the royal court thought him dim, and none of them ever expected him to amount to much. None of the girls fawned over him, like they did Bill, and none of the young men laughed with him the way they did Fred and George. The older, and more "refined" had Percy to talk to, and everyone loved Ginny, no matter who they were. Charlie would have tons of admirers too, if he ever came to court. Even the wives of his brothers had more people to talk to than Ron.

And Ron thought it was for the best.

He hadn't always thought that way, of course. When he was younger, he had resented it quite a bit. Actually, he had resented it through childhood, all the way till last summer, when something had happened that had changed his life forever.

Ron Weasley had meet Hermione Granger.

Hermione had to be one of the most beautiful, intelligent, and peculiar women Ron had ever met. And Ron Weasley, Prince of England, had met a lot of women.

For one thing, Hermione had absolutely no patience for shopping, or dancing, or any of the other activities Ron had grown up associating with the fair sex. For another, she did not care, not one bit, that Ron was a Prince. Even though Ron was the least admired of his brothers, the very title Prince did allot a certain reverence from practically everyone. Hermione, on the other hand, only respected people with a rather high level of intelligence, a level which Ron felt he had no chance of passing.

After all, that was how they met. Ron had nearly failed his Transfiguration class. It wasn't that he was a bad wizard or anything…Transfiguration was just so boring! This, naturally, lead to some serious talks with Professor McGonagall, Lady, member of the 12 Council, and Transfiguration teacher for the resident royalty, or, in the slang of the day, the Re-Ros. After many long sessions with Ron, and his parents, McGonagall suggested a tutor. The King and Queen asked who she had in mind.

Ron was then sentenced to an hour long tutoring session with the best Transfiguration student in the school. To Ron's surprise, it was not a 7th year student. To his parent's surprise, it wasn't a royal.

Ron didn't mind. Even then, while she had still been in the lower classes, the legend of Hermione Granger had trickled through the grapevine. She was, it was rumored, the most intelligent student in Hogwarts history, beating out the King, Dumbledore, and, more importantly, Percy. This fact alone made Ron like her.

The minute he saw her, Ron liked her even more.

For Ron had never considered the fact that, while Hermione might be brilliant, she was also a teenaged girl. A pretty teenaged girl. And Ron, being a teenaged boy, did what all teenaged boys do in the presence of a pretty teenaged girl; he tried to show off.

This did not impress Hermione, to say the least. In fact, it made her dislike Ron immediately. Every action he thought was funny, she thought was as wasting her time. Every laugh he saw as cute, she saw as cruel amusement.

This went on for nearly a month. Ron started to get rather discouraged. Hermione had shown no signs of liking him in the least, and Ron didn't know what to do. He had asked all of his brothers for advice, and none of them told him anything helpful. He had even asked his father, but the King just shook his head and smiled. Once again, this was not at all helpful. Finally, when Ron was about to give up, Hermione accidentally brought up the topic of chess.

Ron loved chess. Unbelievably more than Quidditch, and, though he would never admit it, some times more than food. He had read everything about chess, owned dozens of sets, and had played everyone in the castle. Even the strategists of the Ministry would no longer play him. So, naturally, when Hermione, for the first time in her life, misquoted something, and that something turned out to be from Ron's favorite chess text, he had to correct her.

"It said "move your pieces with care", not "move your chess pieces carefully"," said Ron, interrupting Hermione's lecture. She stared at him in surprise.

"How would you know?" she asked, her brows scrunched together in the way Ron loved.

"I play some chess," said Ron, trying to be nonchalant. This, of course, lead to the first heated and intelligent argument between tutor and tutee. The argument was soon decided to be solved by a game of chess. Winner would be right. After those 10 minutes, Hermione didn't know if she had ever lost an argument so quickly.

And so began their first tradition. Once a week, instead of studying, they would sit together and talk, and play chess. At first, the time was spent in near silence, as Hermione struggled to convince herself that the first game had been a fluke, and Ron tried just as hard to prove her wrong. Eventually, however, Hermione began to loosen up; thus, so did Ron. The hours of silence soon gave way to loud discussion, and the hours by the chess board soon gave way to other meetings, outside the castle.

It was during one of these meetings that Ron discovered something, something shocking and amazing: he, Ronald Weasley, Prince and 8th in line for the throne, had fallen in love with Hermione Granger, common but brilliant, hardworking but pretty.

However, this led Ron into another set of problems. He knew that some would object to him associating with a peasant girl (though, of course, the very fact that Hermione was magical would stop the protests in his own family, and many others), and that those people could potentially make things difficult for them. However, the biggest obstacle in Ron's way was also the most fearsome and most dangerous: Hermione. For, as she often said, Hermione Granger did not need a man in her life. There would be no knight for her, and she was much happier that way… how in Merlin's name was Ron going to convince her?

Ron had been pondering this for some time now, until the answer literally walked up to him: he needed an inside man, a helper, some one to steer Hermione in the right path. Thus, Ron had two missions as he left the changing rooms that evening; one, inform the new Seeker about the practice scheduled for tomorrow, and two, enlist said Seeker's help in making the most brilliant, beautiful woman in the world fall in love with him.


	5. you get good news

AN: Yay, a chapter posted early! I know it's really short, but I just finished it, and I'm leaving soon, and I wont be able to post for a while, so here it is… as always, please review!!! (after reading it, of course, don't post just to say how much you love/hate Harry Potter in general or anything….)

Harry was not what you'd call a hopeless romantic. In fact, he was quite the opposite. The one and only time he had ever asked someone out (Pavarti Patil back in his 4th year) had resulted in spilled Butterbeer, oddly colored coats, and Pavarti not speaking with him for several months.

Because of this, when Ronald (royal prince), cornered him, (Harry Potter) in the library asking for dating advice, Harry's first inclination was to run, as fast as humanly possible, and perhaps faster (he was a wizard, after all) in the opposite direction. But then Harry found out that Ron needed help approaching Hermione, and he just had to listen to what Ronald had to say.

"—you see, she's just the most amazing, ah, well… I really, really like her," said Ron, blushing rather furiously. "And, well, I need your help. I figure no one knows her the way you do, and maybe you can help me figure out how to ask her out?"

"Oh," said Harry blankly. His mind was still trying to unravel that extremely fast stream of information. Ron seemed genuine enough, and Merlin knew that Harry had been pushing Hermione to start dating, or partying, or anything-besides-studying for a while now. "Well, you know Hermione, if she thinks we're pushing her into something, she'll immediately run the other direction, without even considering what we're doing. You have to go slowly." Harry mulled over the idea for a bit more. The fact that Ron was tapping his foot on the ground and looking at Harry anxiously did not help. Harry suddenly wondered if people could get thrown into Azkaban, the most feared prison in the world, for giving royalty bad advice.

"And it would probably be better if you made her feel like the two of you dating was her idea, not yours." Harry said finally, not knowing what else to offer.

"Yeah," said Ron, a look of complete amazement on his face. "Yeah… it's like a game of chess! I have to maneuver the pieces in such a way, in such a way… that she doesn't notice till it's too late! That's completely brilliant!

"Wow," he said, staring at Harry's bemused face, "you're so good at this! Thank you!"

Ron stood and hurried away, leaving a slightly open mouthed Harry in his wake. It wasn't till Ron was at the end of the hallway that he remembered something rather important.

"Harry," he yelled, running back into the library. Harry looked up, startled.

"Yeah?" he asked, before realizing who it was and blushing. "Yes, your Majesty?"

Ron took no notice of Harry's obvious discomfort. "I nearly forgot to tell you! You're on the team!"

Harry blinked. Ron couldn't possibly mean what Harry thought he meant. "What team, your, uh, Majesty?"

"The team, the team, the QUIDDITCH team!" said Ron impatiently, looking at Harry as though Harry was a particularly dim person, and not whom Ron had just asked advice from.

Harry's face took on a comic mix of delight at the news, suspicion at the unlikeliness of the event, and horror that Ron nearly forgot to mention it. "Wh—"

"Yeah, the first practice is tomorrow!" said Ron, grinning (he was taking an extreme gleeful notice of Harry's discomfort now) "But don't go spreading the word, or anything! Davies wants to keep it a secret for as long a possible."

Harry's face fell. "Because I'm com- erm, not royalty?" he asked, heart sinking. Even his new captain thought he couldn't measure up.

"Exactly," said Ron, nodding. "We know how good you are, and you know how good you are, but there are some other people around here who don't. And some of those other's might try and do something to you if they find out. You know, hazing and all that. Anyways, I have to get going, you've given me so much to think about, thanks again, see you tomorrow!"

Once again, Ron ran off, leaving, once more, a startled Harry in his wake. Harry had never thought about if from that point of view. He felt a broad smile cross his face. They didn't think him unworthy, just unprotected. Harry sat down heavily, still smiling, watching the dust cloud he thought was Ron move farther down the court yard and wondering idly if he should have bowed.

Then Harry's brain caught up with him.

"I'm on the team," whispered Harry, his eyes growing wide at the thought. "Thank Merlin, I'm on the team! I'M ON THE TEAM!"

Even getting kicked out of the library for disrupting the peace couldn't dampen Harry's euphoria.


	6. you have a good day

AN: Ok, I am here! The evil dragon Grounded has been trying to keep me back, but it has not succeeded!!!

Ok, so a good question came up…

I know the whole what-is-Hogwarts-school-or-castle thing is kind of confusing, so let me see if this makes any sense to anyone: Hogwarts is the castle. The royalty of England live there, or at least the royal family do. Anyways, seeing as in my world, there are only about 70 students in the whole of England that have magical powers, besides the royalty. Not to mention that most of the teachers are needed to help run the country. Thusly, the school needed to be close to the castle. Seeing as the school IS the castle, royalty can be sent from their parents, and commoners can live in Hogsmead or get a room in the castle as well.

Harry had never been one for extreme nerves. He just wasn't the type who spent their time worrying about things to come. Harry had never thrown up before a match, and he had never broken any pencils in half during a test (of course, Hermione had. Harry kept a very tidy chart, listing them all. Her record was 14 in one setting).

However, all of that changed within the hour before Harry's first Quidditch practice with the higher team. The impending practice had had him on edge all day.

During that one day Harry; broke 7 pencils, dropped 12 forks, walked into 15 people, walked into 23 walls/doors, and yelled at 19 undeserving students. It wasn't till Hermione finally slapped him, and threatened to tell the Headmaster that Harry couldn't play Quidditch because it was disrupting his studies did Harry snap out of it.

"You wouldn't," gasped Harry, staring at Hermione as though she was Death reincarnated.

"Oh yes I would," said Hermione grimly.

"You know, I could never understand people's fascination with Quidditch. It's just a game," she said thoughtfully, to the shock and scorn of Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were passing by.

However, no matter how much she misinterpreted Quidditch, Hermione knew quite well how important the game was to Harry, which meant that by the end of the day, no matter how she tried to hide it, Hermione was nearly as nervous as Harry.

"Good luck," she squeaked as Harry rushed off after school that day. Harry gave her what he hoped was a smile, and sprinted toward the Quidditch pitch. He arrived as the royals began to pass out their brooms.

"Oi! Potter!" called Davies, beckoning Harry closer to the broom shed. He was holding a long package in his hands.

"Here, Potter. This is your new broom." Harry accepted the package with trembling fingers. His hands were shaking so hard he had a hard time getting the wrappings off, but once he did, he held the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his hand.

The Firebolt was sleek and shiny, with a polished, deep mahogany handle, it's title, The Firebolt, inscribed on the top. The tail was finely clipped to what "Which Broom?" said to be the most aerodynamic style yet. Harry forced himself to breath.

"In the air, everyone!" called Roger. Harry stood tall on unsteady feet and mounted his new broom. It flew like a dream. Every twitch, every motion, no matter how slight, was obeyed without the slightest resistance.

"Potter! I am going to let the Snitch out now!" bellowed Davies from the ground. Harry nodded, and soon the little gold ball was fluttering all over the pitch. Harry gave it a few minutes head start, before searching in earnest. He leisurely caught it in 10 minutes. Examining the Snitch a little closer, he noticed something.

"Hey, Davies!" called Harry. The captain had advised him, after giving Harry the broom, to revert to last name basis for practice. They would get nothing done, he said wearily, if everyone was concerned about rank during Quidditch. "Is this a level Snitch?"

Davies nodded. Level Snitches were extremely useful, but very expensive, which was why most teams didn't use them. Level Snitches had 100 different settings, depending on how fast a player wanted the Snitch to fly, dive, ect. Harry had never actually seen one before. They were, of course, illegal to use during actual games.

"How fast is it set to right now?" he asked.

"10, I think," said Davies vaguely, watching the two Beaters try and stop the Chasers in a two on two scrimmage. "Most royalty start on level 15, but that might be a tad fast for you." Harry shook his head, watching Davies slowly turn the dial. That was still much too slow.

"Could I have the control?" asked Harry, hoping he was not over stepping his bounds. Roger frowned slightly at him, but handed the key over to him. Harry murmured thanks, before quickly flying high above the game, giving himself a bird's eye advantage, and a chance to change the setting number on the Snitch. Harry moved it up to 17, before bringing it back down to 16. He didn't want to seem too presumptuous.

Once again, however, Harry caught the Snitch quickly. With the amazing Firebolt, he didn't even seem to be trying that hard. So, Harry landed and upped the number on the dial fiddling with the different buttons until the Snitch went faster. He did this again, and again, and again, until he finally couldn't see the Snitch any more. Only then did he take to the sky.

However, and the sun dipped behind the high hills, Harry could feel himself growing less and less focused, till finally he couldn't see the Snitch at all. Harry searched high and low for it, but he couldn't seem to find it.

"Potter, come down, we're done for the day!" Davies yelled, once more beckoning from the broom shed.

"I can't find the Snitch," Harry called desperately. Losing the Snitch on his first day? Harry could see the sneer appearing on Smith's face, and even Orla, Terence, and Terry, who seemed to like Harry, looked disappointed.

Davies frowned, waving Harry down. He took the remote and examined it.

"Here, see this button? Press this and," he pressed it, "the Snitch will come zooming back to you," he said, holding the ball out to Harry. Harry accepted it sheepishly.

"Just out of curiosity," said Davies, the frown growing more pronounced, "what was your level?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry nervously.

"What level were you on, with the Snitch! You know, when you discovered you could no longer locate it."

"Oh. Uh, I was on level 74."

Smith gave a derisive snort, and Roger closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Harry felt a sickening lurch in his stomach.

"What's the average?" he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

"Level 104," said Roger, his eyes still closed. Harry could feel his face growing scarlet and fervently wished the grass was soft enough to sink into.

Ron was studying the Snitch.

"So, in other words, good job Harry," he said cheerfully. Harry stared at the Prince. Was he being sarcastic? Did Ron too think it was a fluke that got Harry on the team?

"What do you mean, good job? That was horrible! Did you not just hear us? 104 is the average!" growled Smith, the smugness he was feeling creeping into his voice.

Ron fixed Smith was a look, silently reminding him who exactly was prince. "Yes, but that's on Seeker mode, right?"

"Of course," said Roger, looking up. "We always set the Snitch to Seeker mode, seeing as that is the mode most like there one we use in games. Plus, it's the easiest level, and I didn't want it to go too fast for Harry."

"Well, you seemed to have made a mistake. The mode was changed."

Roger seemed to be looking a little bit more hopeful.

"What mode?" he asked, walking towards Ron and the Snitch.

"Hide and Seek."

Davies stopped in his tracks. "Hide and Seek? Hide and Seek? That's the hardest, but, wait, 74! Level 74 on Hide and Seek! That's, I mean, the Amateur average at the end of the season is 59 on the Hide and Seek level!"

Orla, Terence and Terry were smiling again, and Smith was staring at Harry with dislike and, for the first time, a small amount of respect.

"Well," said Ron, clapping an arm around Harry's shoulders with a friendly, familiar air. He seemed to consider Harry a friend after the rather discombobulating conversation they had had the day before. Harry actually didn't mind. Ron seemed like a loyal, kind person, and funny to boot. "We should go celebrate! Last one to get sloshed is a Percy-like prick!"

As Harry was lead out of the locker room after his first Quidditch practice, toward his first alcoholic drink, he wondered why he had ever gotten so nervous.


	7. you see something unexpected

AN: Oops, I broke my semi-tradition of posting on Sundays… sorry!

Ok, so, this chapter is a little…odd…well, it's a bit stilted…

Anyways, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, or favored or whatever, and a special thanks to **Passionismywriting**,** nightwing27**,and** Phx. Tears**, who have reviewed for nearly every chapter! Oh, and to

Maria:

Yes, thanks, I do know what the difference is between defiantly and definitely. I don't know, I always thought that giving the same chapter from two different points of view helped to flesh the characters out a bit, though, as you can see from the chapter, I agree that exactly the same thing is slightly boring: that's why less than half the chapter is devoted to that scene, and the dialoged doesn't get entirely repeated. Also, I think that Vernon would have been nice to Ginny, the moment he realized that she was a potential buyer.

HPHPHPHP

Harry's following practices went just was well as the first. Harry was a little discouraged at the slow pace he was improving (he had gotten stuck on level 83 on the Hide and Seek mode for the past week) but, seeing as he was already so proficient, no one else was particularly concerned.

The morning of the Amateur World Cup dawned dark, cold, and, in Harry and the rest of the world's opinion, much too early. By the time Harry had made it to the pitch, dodging the Dursley's insults, shivering up the Hogsmeade road, and cursing Roger Davies' rigid practice schedule, the sun had finally spread its slim fingers over the moss covered hills.

"Good morning," said Roger cheerfully, greeting Harry as he trudged into the locker room. Harry could see Terry, Smith, and Terrence glaring at their captain's turned head. Ron was sitting in the corner, his head propped up on the back of his chair and his eyes flittering closed.

"Alright, everyone," said Roger, oblivious to his team's ill wishes towards him. "Today may just be the most important day we have ever faced. We are marching against Bulgaria, one of the best amateur teams the world has ever seen. The odds are not in our favor today. We have been diligent, we have prepared, but we must not let our guard down, not for one minute!"

So they practiced. Every play, every maneuver, every evasive action toward every aggressive plan they could think of got a minute inspection, till there was only an hour before departure. Then Roger had everyone lie down in the soft sand at the base of the goals, and close their eyes. Some people, like Smith and Orla, fell asleep immediately, but Harry just rest there, feeling the much needed rest energize his body, and letting the muscles in his back unclench. Today was an important day for Harry too. Today he was going to perform in front of real live talent Scouts, who were looking for real live talent, to become real live Quidditch players. This was Harry's chance to be noticed, to get away from the dreaded Dursley's for good.

Finally Roger rolled over and, hauling a protesting Smith to his feet, called them to gather around him.

"This way," he said, his face paling to a rather ghastly off-white. Turning, with a beckon to his team, Roger led the way towards the castle. Entering, they were greeted by a stern looking woman that Harry identified to be Professor McGonagall, Lady and Transfiguration teacher for the royal children.

"This way," she said, swiftly making her way through the halls. The team hurried after her, making their way into a large, tastefully decorated office with a large, deep fireplace across one wall. Harry paled slightly. He had never traveled by Floo.

"You will use this fireplace to Floo to the Bulgarian stadium. We will wait there for Professor Karkaroff. He is the Headmaster of Durmstrang, and the Prime Minister of Bulgaria."

"Arrogant toe rag," muttered Smith. Harry had to agree. It was the choice of the person whether or not they wanted to give up one occupation when accepting another offer. However, it was considered extremely pompous and rude to accept a position, then refuse to step down from the other.

McGonagall ignored Smith. "As you are all students of Hogwarts, and are thus representing our country, I expect impeccable behavior from all of you. Even the slightest sign of anything less and you will be shipped home, with punishments to be decided on later." The look on her face let the team know how serious she was. There was a collective gulp, as their imaginations filled in the punishment blanks.

Then McGonagall showed a rare smile.

"Do try your best out there, wont you? Hogwarts hasn't won the Amateur Cup in nearly a decade. And while I would never swoop to so low lever, there are a few people who gamble around here…"

A few people snorted. Every year Professor McGonagall bet quite a substantial amount on the Hogwarts team, with proceeds going to St. Mungo's, no matter how bad they were playing or how good the competition was. She was well known for it.

McGonagall ignored the laughter. "On your way, now," she said briskly, motioning Davies towards the fireplace. Smith, Orla, Higgs, and Boot quickly followed.

"See you on the other side," said Ron good naturedly as he stepped into the Floo. Harry was staring at the fireplace with real apprehension now. He had heard many horror stories of people getting stuck between fireplaces, and of others getting lost for days after coming out at the wrong place. McGonagall, however, was starting to look impatient, so Harry hesitantly grabbed a handful of power, tossed it into the fireplace, and stepped through. He tried to shout "Bulgarian Quidditch Stadium" like the rest of the team had, but the ash got caught in his mouth, and his words were swallowed by coughing.

The minute Harry fell out of the fireplace (he had closed his eyes through the whole journey) he knew that he had come to the wrong place. Quidditch stadiums, no matter how expensive and no matter how important, tended to be dirty places. This place, on the other hand, literally sparked. The walls were a shining white, unlike the grey Harry had been expecting, and sunlight streamed through windows specially charmed against glare.

A clattering to his left had Harry running. He didn't really think there was anyone that would be particularly mad at him for getting lost in the Floo, annoyed perhaps, but his instincts kicked in and he immediately ducked for cover behind what looked like an ornate filing cabinet.

Peeking through the crack between the wall and the cabinet hinges, Harry watched with dread as a long precession of important looking people, most of them older with a few younger people, entered into the room. Harry nearly gasped aloud when he recognized Ron's dad, the King of England, walk into the room. These were extremely important people.

"Good to meet you, very good to meet you," said a portly man Harry recognized as the Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, shaking the hands of a group of impressive looking gentlemen in silk robes. The Prime Minister seemed to be making introductions, much to the annoyance of the Minister of Magic.

"And this is the Ambassador of the Far Regions," said Minister Clearwater, indicating a tall, well dressed man with dark hair and a handsome face. Harry felt a slight jolt. The Far Regions had once been a part of England, till both Germany and England had claimed position of the beautiful island. In the end, it became its own country, forestalling war. However, after years and years of close friendship between England and the Far Regions, a strange, powerful dark wizard who acted under the pseudonym Voldemort had attacked the world.

Strangely, his attack was primarily focused on the Far Regions, and the island had been under siege for eleven years, until 15 years ago, when both the heir apparent and Voldemort vanished in an epic battle. However, even though the immediate threat had disappeared, the Far Reaches still kept itself hidden from the rest of the world. Until now, at least, if the appearance of an Ambassador was any indication.

Harry peered around the corner of the cabinet, trying to get a closer look. As he watched, the crowed parted and the king turned and greeted a small figure who had just arrived. Harry squinted, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar. A slim, rather short girl with red hair and brown eyes… The memory of a chance meeting between two strangers in front of a street shop echoed in his mind.

Ginny had just walked through the door.


	8. you get disappointed

AN: Ok, I know that this story has been kind of boring so far, so here goes… I have finally figured out approximately where I want this story to go. Please tell me what you think!

OH! And I wrote another chapter, but this one is an interlude by Hermione, and it's sort of short, and doesn't really further the story; it's just fluffy and gives the back ground of how Hermione and Harry became friends. So… do you guys want me to post it, or skip it for another chapter. (Which I will hopefully have written by next week!) Please Review!

…..

Harry couldn't believe it. Ginny, that nice, beautiful girl from the street, was the princess? Of England? And he, Harry Potter, had talked to her, laughed with her, held her hand?!

Harry groaned. He would never be able to face her again.

But then… she was a princess. It was highly doubtful that Harry would see her again, much less talk to her.

Some how this thought made Harry feel much worst instead of better. Sighing, he leaned back against the cabinet. This turned out to be quite a large mistake. The wooden feet of the filing cabinet, while very beautiful, were not designed to support more than the minimal amount of weight, and Harry, unfortunately, was not included in that.

With a crash that seemed to echo through the room, setting Harry's teeth on edge, the filing cabinet fell to the floor…leaving a guilty Harry exposed and closed in.

"Erm… good morning!" said Harry, his face burning and his words alarmingly loud in the silent and shocked room. To increase Harry's misgivings, a large number of cloaked figures appeared from the shadows. Having ten wands pointed at you does nothing for nerves.

Suddenly the noise was back, as though someone had turned the dial on the volume. The Minister of Magic was sputtering, the king was looking confused, and the Ambassador was laughing. Harry's eyes, however, sought Ginny.

Her eyes were sparkling, and Harry could see the laughter that she was trying to conceal in the corners of her twitching lips. Ginny's gorgeous red hair cascaded down her back, the gold and brown streaks fusing together into a fiery river.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you do know how to make an entrance, don't you?" she said, her eyes bright with recognition, and her voice teasing.

"Ginevera, you know this young man?" asked the King, sounding confused. In a regal way, of course. "Stand down," he added, addressing the cloaked figures. Harry watched in relief as the put their wands away and slipped back into the shadows.

"Oh yes, Harry and I go way back," said Ginny, laughing as she walked over to him. The sound seemed to lift Harry's spirit.

"Erm, sorry about that," he said, gesturing to the over turned cabinet with a sheepish smile.

"That is quite alright," said the King absent mindedly, looking from his daughter to Harry, trying to remember if he had ever met the boy before. He certainly looked familiar.

"Alright? Alright! It is not alright! How did you get in here?" sputtered the Minister of Magic.

"Ah, well, funny story, that…" began Harry nervously. His eyes rolled over the King, who was looking curious, to the Minister, who was looking furious, to the Ambassador, who had been giving Harry odd looks since he had heard Harry's name.

"Go on," said Ginny, sending him encouraging, though very cheeky, grin. Harry smiled back at her.

"Well, er, I'm actually here with the Quidditch team, and—" Harry was cut off as Ginny let out a squeak.

"Oh Merlin! You're Harry Potter!"

"Uh, yes, I thought we'd passed this stage," said Harry, bemused. Ginny slapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't get smart with me. I could have your head chopped off," she said imperiously. Harry snickered. "Anyways, Ron's told me all about your try out. Is it true you can catch the Snitch at level 74 on Hide and Seek?"

Harry blushed. "I—I, sort of, I suppose…"

"Really, 74?" said the Ambassador, looking intrigued.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, not meeting the man's eyes. The Ambassador of the Far Reaches was talking to him, him!

The Minister, meanwhile, was starting to look frustrated. "Yes, well, this is all very nice and all, but I still don't understand. What are you doing here? The player's usually Floo directly to the locker room. Then again, I don't recall ever meeting any Potters at court either… What title do you hold?"

Harry blushed harder than he had when he had been exposed.

"I don't hold any title, sir. I'm here because, well, the Floo, I've never used it before, you see, and I wasn't at all prepared for it and…"

"You got lost in the Floo," asked Ginny, giggling.

"Wait," said the Ambassador. "Does this mean you are not royalty?" Harry nodded yes.

"But however did you end up here? The lower team's not playing here," said an elderly man in light green robes.

"I'm subbing for Lord Cedric on the higher team," murmured Harry nervously. He really didn't want to explain everything to these people.

"Ah, yes, you're the Seeker from the lower team," said the Prime Minister, speaking for the first time since Harry arrived. Harry nodded.

The government was a bit…odd. Harry knew that the Prime Minister was the elected official of the people, a voice to the king. However, it was a tradition that the Prime Minister could not have any magic; indeed, there were part of the world that didn't trust wizards, and refused to vote for a magical person, regardless of their political standing.

Because of this, as Harry had discovered during his short time on the higher team, the Prime Minister was considered a bit of a joke by the majority of the royal court. His opinions were often ignored in favor of his number two, the Minister of Magic. This lead to an intrusting dynamic in court. The Prime Minister couldn't get any of his ideas heard unless it was through the Minister of Magic, and the Minister of Magic couldn't pass anything with out the Prime Minister's signature. This centuries old feud between officers was exemplified by the fact that the current Ministers seemed to have hated each other out of office as well as in. They hadn't had a good word for the other since the Prime Minister's daughter had married one of the royal brothers.

Abruptly, all heads turned towards the door, which had just been thrown open with a noise to rival Harry's entrance. A harassed Roger barged in.

"Oh, I apologize, I'm looking for…" his words trailed off as he spotted Harry, who was staring sheepishly at the floor.

"You!" hissed Roger. "Where have you been? We've been looking every where for you!"

"Aw, don't be too angry with him, Roger, the poor thing got lost in the Floo," said Ginny, giggling again. Roger glared at her.

"That may be so, but he's still late!" said Roger indignantly. It struck Harry that the two of them had probably grown up together. The thought rather saddened him.

Suddenly, a small hand had found his, and a warm brush spread across his face. "See you at the after party," whispered Ginny, and then, to the shock of everyone on the room, she pecked Harry on the cheek.

"Bye," she said, grinning, as Roger dragged Harry out, and the king said "Ginny!" with a shock only a father could achieve.

Once the door shut, Roger turned to Harry with the intent of expressing just how angry he was. However, upon seeing Harry, who's face was red, eyes distance and his hand on his cheek, Roger's anger melted.

"Come on, lover boy," he said with an exasperated sigh. "We need to get down to the pitch." He gave another sigh, shaking his head.

"I don't want to by you when Ron finds out that you've been kissing his sister."

Laughing at Harry's horrified expression, Roger grabbed his arm again and pulled him down the corridor.

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The next half hour passed in a blur for Harry. He has stumbled into the locker rooms after Roger, who had merely told the rest of the team that Harry had gotten lost. The team had accepted this, but only because Harry's dazed expression seemed to support the idea. Harry had quickly changed, and, along with the rest of his team, was treated to a special pre-game speech by Roger.

"We have worked hard, and we have trained. This is it guys. We've done all that we could to prepare for this moment. Win, or lose, we can do it with pride, knowing that we tried our best!" said Roger, his face flushed and his voice full of emotion.

"However, if we lose, we shall be shamed by everyone else!" continued Roger, shattering the mood. "So, go out there and have fun, but win too!"

Nearly everyone in the room groaned, before rising to their feet and walking to the entrance. A whistle blew, and they marched out onto the field.

It was more magnificent than Harry could have ever imagined. There were thousands of people seated in the stands, and the stone walls sparkled. Half the crowd was dressed in red showing their support to the Bulgarian team. The other half was dressed in red, green, yellow, and blue, the traditional Hogwarts combination, which represented the school's founders. A glint of red hair shined from the crowed, and Harry felt his heart miss a beat. He was going to win this game, if it was the last thing he did.

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The after party had to be one of the best experiences of Harry's life, second only to getting accepted into Hogwarts.

The game had been amazing. And, even better, no one could deny that Harry had been the star. He had been the prime target for all Bludgers, feints, and fouls. In the end, however, he managed to dodge them all, catching the Snitch right out from beneath Victor Krum's nose. It had only lasted 13 minutes, but what a glorious 13 minutes it had been.

Unfortunately, they had not been able to immediately waltz off to the after party. They had to be formally gifted with the Cup, and then meet with all of the important officials and royal figures in the castle. The only exciting part of that was finding out the Ambassador's name: Sirius Black.

And having Ginny give him a celebratory hug, of course.

The dinner was an uncomfortable affair, for many reasons, the least being the dress robes everyone was required to wear. Harry spent the entire dinner sitting with the team and the royal families of England, and Romania. He had the fortune, or misfortune, of sitting next to Ginny who, while filling most of the three hours with cheer and delightful conversation, had an annoying habit of drawing circular patterns on his leg whenever he tried talking to other people. Other people that included her parents.

But the worst part of the day came at the end.

"Good evening, Princess, Harry," said a cheerfully voice. Harry started, and turned to find a grinning Cedric Diggory standing before him. A Cedric standing with both legs firmly planted on the ground.

"So," said Harry, struggling to keep his voice level. "You've made a full recovery?" Harry had meet Cedric a couple times, with the team. His broken leg had been one of the worst in Hogwarts history.

"Oh, yes, I should be back to normal by next week. Listen, Harry, I've been meaning to say, well, thanks. You know, for covering for me in all this. That catch today was amazing! I know it couldn't have been much fun for you, you know, playing without your friends."

He didn't understand, Harry realized. Cedric had never played Quidditch for Quidditch. He enjoyed the game, but what he loved most were the team moments, the getting to know you part. He didn't realize how much Harry's flying meant to him.

So, keeping that in mind, Harry was able to croak "No problem," keeping his eyes focused on Cedric's retreating back so he wouldn't have to face Ginny's sympathetic gaze. Feeling a little reckless, he tapped his goblet and asked for Firewhiskey. Every burning swallow numbed his disappointment a little.

In the end, sneaking way from the dinner with the team and climbing into the Floo (Harry keeping his eyes tightly closed and having someone else shout the destination) was exactly what Harry needed. They went to the Leaky Cauldron where the rest of the school, after ditching class and going to the game, was waiting. There he was able to forget his problems and remember exactly why tonight was so great.

"Harry!" came a shriek, before Harry was assaulted by a mass of bushy brown hair. "The game was great, you were so amazing, I can't believe you caught the Snitch so fast!" said Hermione breathlessly. "That Wonsky Faint was so dangerous!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, grinning. Hermione's complete miss understanding of Quidditch never failed to cheer him up. He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd, to the fire place, where the rest of the team sat.

"I think there might be someone else who would like a congratulations," he hissed in her ear, shoving her over to a certain surprised prince. Blushing, and trying to mop up the Butterbeer she had spilled over Ron, Hermione glared at Harry and, upon finding he was too far to shove, pulled out her wand and shot a discrete tripping jinx at him. As Harry tripped over his own feet, he crashed onto a small, warm body.

"We have got to stop meeting like this," said Ginny, staring up at Harry, whose face was but inches from hers.

"I-I, sorry!" sputtered Harry. He made to move off of her, but Ginny placed a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to stay down.

"You have the most amazing eyes I've ever seen," she murmured. Harry gazed down at her for a moment, before an angry voice from behind him yelled, "Get off my sister you smarmy git!"

Blushing, Harry scrambled to his feet, before reaching down and helping Ginny up as well. Gulping, he turned and meet, not one, but two angry, though slightly amused looking red heads.

"Fred! George!" squealed Ginny, giving both a hug. Harry grimaced. Just as he had suspected. More of Ginny's royal brothers.

"Er, your highness, ah, highnesses," said Harry, giving as much of a bow as he could without hitting anyone. The two ignored him.

"Hey, Gin-Gin," said Fred (or maybe George, Harry couldn't tell). "This boy bothering you?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he glanced at Harry.

Ginny just gave a light, care free laugh. "Oh, Fred, you worry too much! Besides it's more like I'm bothering him," she said lightly. Her eyes flashed to Harry's face. "Not that that I think he minds too much," she added, grinning as Harry flushed scarlet.

Fred didn't look convinced, but George laughed and shook his head.

"You going to introduce us?" he asked, raising one eye brow. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Harry, these are my least favorite twin brothers, Princes' Fredrick and George."

"Ah," said Fred wisely. "We are you're only twin brothers! There for, we are also you're favorite twin brothers!" Ginny ignored him.

"Fred, George, this is Harry Potter. You might have seen him in the game."

"So, you're the mysterious Seeker," said Fred, all antagonism forgotten. "Good catch, kid."

Harry blinked. "Well, wow, thanks!" he said. Fred and George Weasley had been fabulously talented Quidditch players at Hogwarts, and had both married famous professionals. They knew how to spot talent, and were well known, among other things, for being startlingly honest. For them to think that Harry was good made Harry feel prouder than they would ever know.

The four of them spent a good portion of the night talking. The twins wanted to fill Ginny in on their joke shop, and Ginny told them all the latest gossip in the castle. They even discussed what they thought Ron and Hermione were doing (the two of them were both missing in an extremely suspicious manor). Harry had told the twins all about Ron and Hermione's unlikely romance, excluding everything Ron had told him in confidence, of course. To his surprise, Ginny was able to share some things Harry hadn't known. Apparently she was not only close to her brother, but had become rather close to Hermione, as the two were the only girls in the advance Arithmancy class (Ron had been oddly reluctant to take the subject, choosing to take Divination instead. Ginny didn't remember much from that particular argument between the siblings, except for the words "easy O").

Before Harry realized it, he had talked, joked, and drunk his way past curfew, and past midnight, till the pub was starting to empty of students and Ginny had dozed off, her head on Harry's shoulder. It was then that Ron and Hermione reappeared, both looking rather rumpled.

"So guys," began Harry, nudging Ginny into wakefulness, the smirk on his face being mirrored on all sides. "Did you two have fun?" He waggled his eye brows suggestively, causing Ginny to laugh.

Ron's ears turned red, and he aimed as swipe at Harry's head that missed, but Hermione frowned and him, looking concerned.

"Harry what are you still doing here? Did the Dursley's give you the morning off?"

"What?" laughed Harry. "The store doesn't open till seven!"

"No, not the counter shift," said Hermione patiently. "That paranoia thing you're always complaining about."

Harry's blood seemed to freeze. The match had been on Friday. That meant it was Saturday right now. Every since the shop had once been robbed 5 years ago on a Friday evening, Vernon has insisted on having guards through out Friday night. Harry's eyes frantically searched for a clock. It was 2 in the morning, and Harry was two hours late.

"Oh Merlin, I'm so late! Vernon's going to kill me!" Harry gasped, searching around himself for his left shoe, which seemed to have gotten lost during the night. Impatiently Hermione pulled out her want and cast a summoning spell. Handing the newly found item to Harry, who hastily shoved it on his foot, she cast another spell, making Harry's crumpled robes flatten out, and even managed to make his hair lie down a bit more than normal.

Harry muttered his thanks, before rushing out the room, leaving the confused Weasley's to Hermione. He hoped fervently that they were not offended.

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The Leaky Cauldron is in the front of Hogsmead. This is generally considered a good thing, as it is widely considered one of Hogsmead's most popular locations. However, Dursley's Driftwood Emporium was one of the least well know shop in the village, and it was about as far away from the entrance as possible—an economically sound idea, but an extremely long ways to run. In fact, it was one of those weird places where the faster you need to be somewhere, the longer it takes to get there. And Harry really needed to be some where.

Harry practically crashed into the door of the Emporium. He used the momentum from his consequential fall backwards to wrench the door open, and pushed of from his knees to make it as far inside as her was able. Unfortunately, that was not nearly far enough, as a large, beefy hand met him mid jump, pulling Harry to the side.

"So…" said Uncle Vernon, whose pudgy eyes were narrowed and his mustache quivering. "You missed your shift. What do you have to say for your self?"

"I'm really, really, sorry," said Harry as earnestly as he could. The alcohol he had drunk was making him talk faster than usual. "I just lost track of time, and I know I'm late, it wont happened again—"

"Silence!" roared Vernon, spit flying from his mouth and his face turning an alarming shade of violet. "Did I ask for your sorry excused?"

Well, yes, though Harry, but he was not nearly so stupid as to voice this though.

"You are such a lazy, worthless brat!" continued Vernon, who had obviously been preparing this speech all last night. "There you stand, full of unearned pride and arrogance! We've feed you, clothed you, spent huge amounts of money to educate you," this was not true at all, of course. The Dursley's had sent Harry to free public school for years, and he was on scholarship into Hogwarts, they had told him so themselves, "all we ask is for a bit of help around the shop but no, you're too lazy to even consider helping!

"You know, though, it's not really your fault," said Vernon. Harry's head jerked up at this sudden change of direction. Vernon's eyes seemed to glow with malice.

"I mean, you were born from the people you were born too. As far as I remember, your parents were worthless, jobless freaks too. Wouldn't you agree? Oh, wait," Vernon's eyes narrowed, and he gave a harsh laugh that made Harry's blood boil and his heart freeze, "you've never met them, have you? Oh, yeah, that's right, their dead, aren't they?"

That was the last straw for Harry. Insults against his intelligence, his looks, his "work ethic", all fine. But tonight Uncle Vernon had crossed a line that he should not have crossed.

With an enraged snarl, Harry threw himself at his uncle. All of the excitement Harry had felt today, all of the disappointment, all of the joy at seeing Ginny, it was all fuel that Harry used in his attack of his uncle. Not that it did any good. Vernon Dursley had a foot on Harry, and was at least 100 pounds heavier, quite possible more. Still yelling insults, he threw a shouting Harry into his room.

"I'll deal with you tomorrow," growled Vernon, slamming the door shut. Harry heard the lock click and Vernon say, presumably to Petunia, "Lets take the day off. Dealing with that boy has given me the largest headache…"

Harry sat on his lumpy bed, his head in his hands. What had started out as a glorious day had been moving steadily down hill all night.

A sharp jab as he sat down made Harry reach into his pocket. There was his wand, the perfectly innocent looking piece of wood that Harry hadn't even thought of using. Harry groaned in disgust. What kind of wizard was he?

Then it hit Harry. He was in a Muggle house. He had a wand. He could leave, and the Dursleys wouldn't be able to stop him. The Dursley's wouldn't even know that he was gone until it was too late. He would have a whole weekend to figure out what to do before he went back to school.

Harry quickly packed his bag. He really didn't have very many belonging aside from his school books. They all went into an old, beaten up trunk that had obviously been expensive once. The Dursleys had wanted nothing to do with it. They said it had been Harry's fathers: it was true that it didn't open for anyone but him. Harry cast a whispered Shrinking Charm and placed it in his pocket. Now for the last and most dangerous object.

Harry's parents hadn't been jobless. Harry didn't know what exactly they did, but whatever it was, it had paid well. And all the money they had had been placed into a vault, a waiting Harry and his 17th birthday. Harry wouldn't have known about any of this had he not over heard the Dursleys discussing it once when he was 11. Apparently the key was in the form of a ring, and wouldn't change back into a key until the scheduled time. Harry wouldn't be able to access any money right now, but it would be good to have. 17 was only a few years away, after all.

Harry tiptoed down the stairs, into the shop. He cast a quick Locating Spell, which lead him to the wall safe in the back of the shop. Harry grinned. Everyday at closing time, Vernon would make Harry count and record all the money in the register. Vernon would then open the safe, and have Harry put the money away. Harry had always hated doing this, for Vernon would make Harry recount the money nearly twenty times, sometimes more, before he was convinced Harry counted right. However, after watching the safe being opened so many times, Harry knew the combination. It was easy for Harry to grab the ring, string it on some yarn he had found in the kitchen, and slip around his neck and under his shirt.

With a last, slightly gleeful look around, Harry silenced the alarms and pushed the door open, letting it swing silently behind him as he walked away from the only home he had ever known.


	9. A Hermione Interlude

AN: Wow, guys, times really flown by… sorry I haven't updated sooner! Life just kind of caught up with me… D:

Thank you all for reading! Please review!

Ok, advance warning… This is a fluff chapter. I REPEAT, FLUFF AHEAD!

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Hermione had never been particularly happy growing up, friendless but intelligent. She hadn't really noticed, either. She had had admiration, and praise, and books, and she had always thought those were the most important things to have.

Of course, Hermione hadn't always thought this way; she hadn't always been smart. To be more precise… she hadn't always known things that no one else did. She hadn't thirsted for knowledge, felt the need to know everything. All through grade school, perfect grades had just come easy. And those easy A's had been enough for her.

But then, when Hermione was 11, she got her letter for Hogwarts. She found out that she had magic! It was one of the best feelings that she had ever had, one of the happiest times of her life. But then she got to the school, and she looked around and realized that here, intelligence wasn't enough. Even though Hogwarts was beautiful and special and more magical than she had ever imagined, everything about the school was slanted, tilted, bias towards the purebloods. Towards the royalty.

And then, a few weeks in, Professor Slughorn, the retired Potions teacher who lived in the castle, a man Hermione knew only by reputation, had sent out an invitation for club to all of the most promising students, the ones who were already obviously better than the rest, what would let them meet all the other promising students, past and present. Hermione Granger was not one of the people to receive an invitation.

That was when Hermione found out the hard truth most people knew all their lives: there was always going to be someone better.

And Hermione hated it.

She hated the feeling of stupidity when she didn't know the answer, she hated the feelings of shame when her homework was not perfect. But most of all, she missed all the praise she had gotten from being the brilliant child, the perfect, mature one. And so, after that first miserable month, she vowed that she would never be left behind again, that there would never be an opportunity that she would miss because she wasn't smart enough.

It wasn't hard, after all. Studying, reading, learning, all of these things still came easily to Hermione. But now she wanted to know everything before anyone else did. She wanted to be able to understand any conversation, to charm the teachers, to, in her weaker moments, show up those stupid purebloods! She wanted everyone to come to her for help, whether they were royalty or not.

However, as time went by, as her parent's marriage began to fall a part, reading wasn't just for knowledge. It was an escape. After all, who cares about some stupid dentists, when you could think about Alexander, or Hercules, or Darwin! That was what Hermione told herself, anyway.

Eventually, long after her parents had gone their separate ways, after her mother had buried herself in her work and her father had moved in with the blonde woman Hermione had seen him with, and Hermione had been sent to live full time at Hogwarts, she had looked up and found that her intelligence, her learning, the smartness that she had always held dear, was all she had left. The invitations, which had started pouring in soon after, the perfect grades, she had all of that, and yet she was still unhappy. And, in the end, the only good thing, the only lasting thing, that had come out of it was her friendship with Harry Potter.

Harry was another odd ball kid. He was incredibly likeable; indeed, nearly everyone knew his name, and everyone who knew his name liked him. However, there was something about him, something that made him keep everyone at arms length. Hermione didn't think he even knew it himself, but it was there all the same. It made him comrades, not friends; people to talk to but no one to talk with.

It was that, she thought, that made Hermione want to be his friend. She had met him at a Slug Club party (Harry was ridiculously good at defense; it was the only subject Hermione got beaten in). The enigma that was Harry Potter made her determined to crack him. He became her obsession. She wanted to understand him, to understand why he was so isolated. It took hard work, of course. To get close to him, to get him to talk. But what she found astounded her.

Harry Potter was lonely. More lonely than even she was. His parents had died, and his "family" didn't even try to understand him. Even worst, they didn't seem to want to understand him, and they had made sure he knew it. He had never had a real friend, and everything he had been through made him subconsciously weary of other people.

She had helped him, once she had understood what was wrong. After all, Harry was really an amazing guy. He was kind, and thoughtful, and smart. He was powerful, but self doubting. He was good looking, but self conscious. He wanted to know everyone's problems, but never shared any of his own.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hermione was able to coax him out of his shell, to let people in. She was the one that pushed him to join the Quidditch team (not that it had been hard; Oliver Wood, who had been the captain, had practically threatened Harry with bodily harm if he didn't). She had, though, fought along and hard battle with him to help her tutor students in Defense, and she had worked through her own shyness to try and bring more people into their conversations.

That's why, after four years of friendship, Hermione had been very happy when Harry, for the first time by himself, had made a friend. She was especially pleased when she learned it was Ron. Ron was silly, and fun. He procrastinated and his work was usually very sloppy. He had the best sense of humor, and he never took anything completely seriously. In other words, he was everything Hermione wasn't. However, he was also loyal, and protective, which was exactly what Harry needed.

In thinking about it, Hermione realized it was what she needed too.

But no, she had promised herself a long, long time ago, that she would never fall in love. Not after seeing first hand what it could do, not after seeing what it could destroy. Not after seeing what could happen. She told herself she did not, in away, need Ron Weasley.

But he was just so cute! The way he tried so hard to understand Transfiguration, and then later, the way he tried to make her feel better by going easy on her at chess. The way that he felt insecure about being the youngest, and the way that he loved the Cannons, not because they would someday win like he said, but because he knew what it was to be looked down upon, and he didn't want anyone else to.

When Harry had pushed her into Ron at the party, Hermione had nearly thrown the blasted boy out the window. But… Ron's arms felt so good around her waist, and his eyes looked so blue as he looked down and asked "Are you alright?", that she had no choice but to forgive Harry everything.

She had blushed furiously, of course, as she had said yes and tried to mop the Butterbeer off of his robes. And when he had taken her hand and led her away from the loud, crowded room, she had let him lead. When he had sat down in the moonlight, on a bench outside, she had sat next to him.

But then, after a long stretch of conversation and an even longer period of comfortable silence, he had asked her if he could kiss her. That had been what he said, "Can't I kiss you?"

He had been so serious, like her answer was of some great importance, like he couldn't have many girls, any girl, just by virtue of being a prince. Hermione had never met anyone who could make her feel like the only one in the world the way Ron could.

She had wanted to say no just as much as she had wanted to say yes. However, staring in those blue eyes, and seeing those eyes turn pink, what came out of her mouth had been neither.

"I'm scared," she'd said, eyes wide and breathe a pale mist in the cool air. He had understood immediately, and wrapped his arms around her instead. The feel of his protective embrace, the unspoken pledge he was making to never let anyone hurt her, was so special, so wonderful, that Hermione turned and kissed him instead.

It was like nothing she had ever felt. It was like getting praised for hard work, and getting sung to sleep, and taking a long bubble bath, and running from monsters, and laying in the warm sun, all in one. The most perfect combination of acceptance, peace, comfort and danger. Protection and adventure mixed in one. When they had broken apart, Ron and Hermione had both stared at each other for a long moment. Hermione didn't know what Ron was thinking, but she had blushed terribly hard, and stood up to leave. Ron had caught her arm, and, standing up too, he had kissed her again. It was then that it hit Hermione like a ton of text books—she was in love. After years and years of promising herself that she would never do it, Hermione had failed and fallen in love. Strangely, it didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. Probably because she was pretty sure Ron loved her too.

So when they had come back, and Harry and Ginny had made fun of them, it was easy to slip back into the normal flow of things. It was easy to blush, and worry, and lecture the way she always did, and Ron's ear's had reddened like they always did as he joked with Harry.

But Hermione knew what had happened in that garden that night, and Ron knew what had happened too. And that knowing gave her more joy than she had ever had.


	10. you find the best friends

AN: Another chapter, a little over due…. Sorry!

This chapter has what was one of my favorite scenes to write. :D

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

By the time Harry had made it past Zonko's Joke shop, his initial anger and excitement had worn off, and he was starting it worry. It was one thing to dream of living alone, of being free of the Dursley's, and quite another to actually do it.

Harry was not a fool. He knew that very few places would employ a teenage boy for the amount Harry would need to live on his own. He also knew that the Dursley's would want him back, even though they hated him. He did too much work for them not to.

This meant that Harry couldn't go back to school. If he wanted to retain his freedom, he would have to go incognito.

And Harry did not want to go back. For one thing, Vernon usually took his wand away every night, and it was just in light of their argument that he'd forgotten. The real reason, however, was that Harry knew if he went back now, he would never get the courage to leave again. The knowledge he could have left and wasn't able to would haunt him forever.

Or at least a very long while.

Sitting down in front of a dark and locked Forean's Ice Cream Parlor, Harry gazed up at the glittering night sky. The moon was full, and there was just the smallest sliver of sunlight on the horizon.

As the light hit Flourish and Blotts across the road, Harry suddenly knew where he could go. With a sigh, he stood up and, grabbing his wand and brushing the dirt off his oversized pants, he headed towards Hogwarts castle.

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The sun had completely risen over the mountains by the time Harry reached Hogwarts. He had to stealthily scurry up the road, hiding from early rising shop keepers, incase the Dursley's asked their neighbors about the whereabouts of their vanished charge.

The school gates were, of course, locked, but that didn't concern Harry too much. Back during 3rd year, he had had the misfortune of leaving a trail of muddy foot prints on his way in from Quidditch practice, and not noticing them until he had reached the top Great Hall. During the sub sequential run-and-hide-from-Filch (the castle's cranky head care taker) Harry had discovered a small, unmarked door, plain and boring when compared with a magnificent tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and a large group of trolls (Harry wasn't quiet sure what they were doing, but, whatever it was, it was highly entertaining to look at) that had been hung across the hall. As Filch's footsteps grew louder, Harry near dove through the unlocked door. Standing and brushing his robes off, he had looked around to find himself standing next to Hogwarts' East gate. Or, more specific, outside Hogwarts' East gate. Harry had watched in astonishment as the small section of the wall he had scrambled up from close itself and, for all extent and purposes, vanished. He had immediately checked the other side of the wall, but all he found was a rose bush, a Canon's pin, and a lot of weeds.

Harry had spent every spare hour he had for the next few months trying every spell and enchantment to get the passage to open again. Eventually he had resorted to physical violence, and general verbal abuse. "For Merlin's sake, will you please just open?" Harry had shouted as he gave the wall a kick. The wall gave a slight shutter, almost as if it were saying "Well, since you asked" before sliding aside. Harry had gotten the distinct impression the wall had been laughing at him. Shaking his head and scuttling through the hole, he had found himself in the kitchen, to the astonishment of the house elves.

Now the passage served Harry well, as, with a whispered "please", he was given admission into the castle. Slipping into the now deserted kitchen (excluding the old, slightly crazy house elf that maintained a permanent residence by the fire, and two or three that were on stand by for late night-snackers), he eased the door open and stepped into the empty hall way.

Surreptitiously making his way from shadow to shadow, with pauses at corners to make sure cranky custodians and their four legged pets weren't skulking about, Harry managed to get to the student's quarters without incident.

Harry had been to the student dormitories several times. A long hallway ran down the middle, with smaller corridors branching off; seven on the left and seven on the right. The rooms were separated girls on the left, and boys on the right, and each corridor held the rooms for the particular year; the farthest for the seventh years, and the closest for the first.

Harry snuck over into the fifth year boy's corridor. He knew, of course, that Hermione would be happy to help him, but there would be much more trouble if he got caught there that with Ron, not to mention the fact that Lavender, Hermione's room mate, was the biggest gossip in the school. Word that Harry Potter had been found in Hermione Granger's room would circulate in minutes (luckily, as prince, Ron didn't have a room mate). Harry paused outside Ron's room. Harry and Ron had spent nearly every free hour over the past 14 days together talking, doing homework, and practicing Quidditch. Hopefully the budding friendship between the two would extent to this late night interruption.

"Ron," hissed Harry, softly knocking on the door. "Ron! It's me!" He pounded a little harder. Still no response.

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron was notorious for being a very heavy sleeper. So heavy, in fact, rumor had it, that once when McGonagall had caught him sleeping in her class, it had taken a large bucket of icy water to wake him up. Harry hesitantly opened the door, hoping Ron hadn't decided to sleep naked or anything.

"Gah!" shrieked Harry in a rather girlish voice as the door opened fully, letting the sound Harry hadn't heard from outside be audible, before turning and attempting to run as far in the opposite direction as he could. Unfortunately, in his haste, Harry tripped on his own robes. Crashing to the ground, he clamped his hands over his eyes, unwilling to look at the terrifying scene before him.

"Hermione! Put some clothes on, dammit!"

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"Honestly, Harry, what were you thinking, barging in like that?" asked Hermione, her blouse buttoned and Ron's shirt tucked back in. Her face was a fiery red color, and her smile seemed to be alternating between sheepish and joyous.

"What was I thinking?" asked Harry, astonished. He had, after being assured it was safe, removed his hands from his face and crawled into the room, collapsing on a cushioned chair. "You're the one who was snogging Ron at six in the morning!" His eye brows furrowed. "Aren't you two moving a little, well, fast? I mean, you've been dating for, what, six, eight hours?"

Hermione, in a rare display of childishness that let Harry know exactly how happy she was, stuck her tongue out at him. Ron gaped at him, his completion slowly returning back to its normal color.

"You think that we're moving too fast?" he said, bemused. "What about you and Ginny? You two were looking awful comfy…. Didn't you meet her for the first time today?"

Harry could feel the heat crawling up the sides of his face till it met on the bridge of his nose. The carpet was suddenly fascinating.

"The second time," he murmured, aware of Ron laughing and Hermione's half suppressed smile. "And we are going a little fast, but, well, you know Ginny…" unbidden, the memories of Ginny's long hair rose to his mind, and the way it shone, and the feel of her hand on his leg and her skin next to his….

Harry shuddered slightly, and looked up. Ron had stopped laughing, and was giving Harry a look that was closely associated with Quidditch accidents. Hermione gave Harry a kind smile, though one eye brow was tilted ever so slightly above the other.

"Wh-what do you mean, you_ are_ going a little fast?" demanded Ron, his eyes narrowing. "Exactly how fast are you going, eh, Potter?"

"Honestly, Ron, you know as well as I do that that is not what he meant. And, besides, if they were doing anything inappropriate, it's much more likely Ginny's fault, not Harry's," cut in Hermione impatiently. She was fingering the lace on the seat she was sitting on, her fingers weaving through the holes as she gazed into the distance. Harry had a moment to wonder what she was thinking about before Ron grunted and sat back in his seat.

"Wait," said Harry, the gist of what Hermione had said catching up to him. "What do you mean, it's Ginny's fault?"

Hermione and Ron shared a glance. Harry felt a ripple of unease. He could read his friends well enough to know that they were judging how much to tell him.

"Ginny," began Hermione slowly, the syllables carefully measured. "She's got a bit of a…reputation."

"A reputation for what?" asked Harry, not comprehending. Ron and Hermione shared another look.

"For going a little fast," finished Ron heavily. It was clear he didn't like thinking about his little sister in such terms.

Harry felt his collar constrict. Was that all he was to Ginny? Another face in the crowd? Had she thought him inadequate, lacking, in some ways? She must have had so much more experience than he did!

Hermione seemed to guess some of which was going on in Harry's head.

"Why did you come up here, anyways?" she asked quickly, her attempt at changing the subject transparent but efficient. Harry sighed glumly.

"I need some help," he began. "The Dursley's—"

A sharp intake of air from between Hermione's teeth interrupted Harry. "They kicked you out?"

"What?" yelled Ron, having been jerked from his thoughts by Hermione's gasp. "Don't worry, Harry, we'll get them back, I can have them arrested or something—"

"No, no, guys, calm down!" shouted Harry. A slight warmth had formed in his chest as he'd listened to his two friends plot against the Dursley's, but they were being awful loud. "Guys, I ran away."

Hermione's hands were over her mouth, but Ron, settling back into his chair, shot Harry a wink. "Well done, mate!" Ron had been hinting he wanted Harry to leave since he'd first heard about Harry's relatives.

"Harry, what are you going to do?" asked Hermione shrilly. "You don't have any money, and you're still in school, and, and everything!"

"I thought I might be able to get a job here," said Harry quietly. Hermione's response, while not unexpected, was rather discouraging. "The castle hires a lot of people around this time of year, I'll just have to find a really good disguise. And I'm not completely broke," he fished out the ring from under his shirt. "This is the key to my parent's vault at Gringotts. I stole it from the Dursley's."

"This was your parents?" asked Ron in an odd voice.

"Yes," said Harry. "Why?"

"Well, this is a high security vault key. I know, because it's the same kind that my, well, my parent's have."

Harry and Hermione stared in shock, first at the ring, and then at Ron. As the royal family, Ron's parent's vault would be the highest security in the bank. Harry would be very rich indeed to have the same kind of vault key.

"Harry, do you know exactly who your parents were?" asked Hermione in a hushed tone. Harry shook his head.

"The Dursley's were never a big believer in questions, you know that. They always told me my parent's died in a car crash," cars were not often used in the big city, though they were used to transported people long distances, especially in the country, "but they were Muggles. The Dursley's were very emphatic about that."

His two friends looked rather disappointed but then a distant gong made them all jump.

"We really should go to sleep," said Hermione as the clock counted to six. "We can worry about this tomorrow."

"Here, you can bunk with me," said Ron as Harry opened his mouth.

"Are, are you sure?" asked Harry hesitantly. He didn't want to impose.

"No, Harry, I think you and your huge amount of luggage are too much for my meager room," said Ron, rolling his eyes and gesturing around his enormous room. "Don't worry about it! It's just for tonight, anyways, we can get you situated tomorrow. Though there is always room." Harry grinned back gratefully.

Hermione stood, a funny smile on her face. "Good night, you two," she said, a strange tenderness evident in her voice. "Be good, now."

"Yes mum," said Ron, opening the door for her. Hermione raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"Do you do this with all your mums?" she asked, fingering the top button on her blouse.

Ron's face is capable of an alarming amount of colors, noted Harry absently, as Hermione slipped into the hallway, leaving Ron's shocked face in her wake.

AN: Please REVIEW!!!


	11. you find unexpected guests

AN: Oh my goodness, it's been a long time!!! Sorry, everyone, I've been in Japan for the past month, and my internet has been spotty at best.

Harry woke suddenly, but peacefully, the next morning. For a moment he lay still, his eyes closed, wondering why his bed was so comfortable, or why there was a low rumble issuing from somewhere over to the right.

Then the events of the past night caught up with him.

Harry sat up so fast he could feel the muscles in his neck protest. The blanket he had been sleeping on fell off the sofa he was laying on (which was, incidentally, much softer than his bed at the Dursley's), and the snoring from Ron's bed continued undisturbed. Harry felt a moment's panic as he pulled the curtains back from the large, bright window and saw the noon high sun, but then he remembered that it was Saturday, and he didn't have classes.

Sighing, Harry walked around the sofa, to where his robes were laying, stretched out and weary of wrinkles, behind it. Harry had slept in his boxers the night before in an effort to keep his robes presentable for another day (Harry had his trunk, but the robes he had been wearing were his only dress robes, and he had been too tired to pull out his pajamas the night before).

Before Harry could even bend down and pick them up, however, the door had swung open with a loud bang. Harry dropped down to all fours, his heart racing. What would he do if it was the Queen? Or the King? The King knew what Harry looked like, and Harry had no way to disguise himself.

"High-ho, high-ho!" sang three voices in harmony. Harry chanced a glance around the side of the sofa and saw three familiar red-heads surrounding Ron's bed. "It's off the work we go!"

"Fred, George, Gin," Ron's groggy voice sounded confused. "What the bloody hell are you doing in my room so early in the morning?"

"Early in the morning!?" said George brightly (Harry could tell it was George from the yellow jumper he was wearing. It had a large "G" stitched on the front) "It's nearly noon, Ronniekins! You've damn near slept the day away!"

"Don't call me Ronniekins," groaned Ron, sitting up. He sounded slightly clearer.

"Oh, whatever, Won-Won," said Ginny lightly. She flounced over to the sofa and plopped down. Harry noticed, much to his discomfort, that she was wearing a very short, very white, very low cut night dress.

Ron moaned even louder. "I was only with Lavender for two weeks! Is that always going to count against me?"

"Yes," chimed three voices simultaneously. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Prince Ronald's short, unfortunate love affair with Lavender Brown had been the talk of the school before they broke up during a loud, public screaming match in the Great Hall. No one knew exactly what had happened between the two, and Harry hadn't known Ron well enough to ask, but he remembered that it had been around then Hermione had begun her tutoring with Ron.

"Say, Ron," said Fred slowly, looking around and noticing the bare window for the first time. "Since when do you leave the curtains open when you go to bed?"

"Yeah, and when do you leave blankets on the furniture?" asked George, picking up the fallen piece of cloth and placing it next to his sister, who was still on the couch.

"And why do you have a second wand?" finished Ginny, holding up the offending piece of wood. Harry nearly swore, recognizing it as his; luckily his hands were still clamped over his mouth. "Do you feel you need extra security, being so close to the throne, and all?"

"Yeah, all us seven could die any day," snickered Fred.

"Maybe you've got a little friend hiding some where," said Ginny suddenly, an impish grin spreading over her face.

Harry figured he would never have a better opening than this.

"Hey, guys," he said nervously, standing up and giving everyone a small bow.

As soon as he said this, several things happened. Everyone in the room jumped, Fred and George both drew their wands, and Ginny, seeming to realize exactly what she was wearing, shrieked and wrapped Harry's blanket around herself. She also seemed to be blushing, which made Harry realize that he had yet to pull his robes on, leaving him standing completely unclothed except for his underwear.

With a loud yelp, Harry dove back down and scrambled into his clothing. Rising up again, his face hot enough to fry eggs, he found a room full of laughing royalty. Even Ginny was giggling, though she still kept the blanket wrapped tightly around her. Harry felt the corners of his own mouth twitch, and before he knew it, he was laughing along with them.

"What are you doing here, Harry," gasped Ginny as the laughter slowly, though not completely, left the room.

"Well…" began Harry, shooting a cautious look at Ron.

"He just needed a place to stay for the night," said Ron smoothly. "Who did you think was here?" he added, looking at Ginny, puzzled.

"Well, I thought, Hermione and you were looking sort of cozy at the party…" she said with a shrug. Ron's ears turned red, and Harry snorted.

"What?" asked Fred with a grin. "Is there something you'd like to add, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. His eyes flit to Ron, who was looking disgruntled, to Ginny, who beamed encouragingly at him. "You should have seem them last night," he blurted.

"Harry!" yelled Ron, while the rest laughed. "Oh, shut up," he told his siblings, sticking out his tongue.

"So, Harry, what _are_ you doing here?" asked George.

Harry's in…a spot of trouble," admitted Ron. "Actually, we sort of need you're help," he added thoughtfully.

"What?" asked Harry anxiously. Fred looked considering.

"What on earth could it be that our Great and Mighty—"

"Strong and Fearless—" added George.

"Yes, that too—little brother needs help with?"

Ron's ears were now dangerously red, though Harry didn't know it this was because he was embarrassed, or about to throw himself on his admittedly larger brothers.

"Harry needs to get around the castle undetected," he began after a few moments of silence.

"Aha!" said Fred sagely. "And you two need our help making him…."

"Invisible?" finished George. Ron and Harry shook their head.

"Just a disguise, I think," said Ron, looking at George thoughtfully. Harry nodded. He kept his eyes on the carpet. He was not nearly comfortable enough to attempt catching any of the royal twins' eyes.

"But…why do you need a disguise to roam the castle?" asked Ginny curiously. "I mean, being a student is enough to give you reason to be nearly anywhere. And if that didn't work, Ron could take you. Or I could." She shot Harry a brazen smile. He immediately thought of cold water.

Ron cleared his throat rather pretentiously. "If you two are quite finished," he said in a dignified voice.

Harry grinned at his friend, before turning back to the twins. "I, er, left home last night."

A surprised silence greeted his words.

The twins turned to each other and shrugged. They obviously thought it was his business. They soon left for a corner with Ron, where they seemed to be discussing something involving hair color. Ginny, however, seemed to be struggling between her curiosity and the polite teachings she had been raised with. The curiosity won.

"Harry, why did you do that? Did you get in a fight yesterday? I know Hermione said that you were out way after your curfew, but…" she trailed off, an uncertain look on her face.

Harry sighed. He hated explaining about the Dursleys and his rather dubious relationship.

"Well…the Dursleys and I don't really get on very well," said Harry awkwardly. Ginny made a small noise of protest in her throat, but Harry held up a hand to forestall interruption. "No, we REALLY don't get along," Harry looked thoughtful. "I probably would have left before this, only they took my wand away every night, and I couldn't very well leave without that."

Ginny's face had taken on a slightly worrisome red color, and her eyes were narrowed dangerously.

"They took your wand away?" she asked quietly, the whisper in her voice and the grit of her teeth convincing him this was not a common practice.

"Well, yeah, but, don't people ever do that…" he trailed off uncertainly as Ginny's expression grew fiercer.

"Harry," said Fred, his eyebrows furrowed, who, along with his brothers, had cut off their discussion to listen. "Taking away a wizard's wand, I mean, you know, actually leaving with another wizards' wand, not just disarming in defense or whatever, is one of the worst insults in the wizarding world. I mean, disarming them or something is one thing, but, but, stealing it every night is another!"

Harry blinked. "Oh."

George shook his head. "I see young Harry needs some educating in the world of magical etiquette!" he said, his voice deep and his hand waving majestically.

"I agree, o brother mine!" said Fred, nodding enthusiastically. Ron cleared this throat.

"Uh, guys? Remember the matter at hand? We can teach Harry tons of etiquette after we figure out a disguise for him."

Fred and George shared the sort of look that plainly said I'm-talking-and-you-don't-get-to-know-what-about-because-you-don't-have-the-pleaseure-of-twinhood. George nodded and left the room. Ron, Harry, and Ginny stared after them in confusion.

"Ah," said Fred, noticing their looks, "do not concern yourselves, children. No, I think some of us," here he shot Ginny a hard look. "might enjoy getting ready for the day." Ginny mock punched him in the shoulder (Fred pretended to fall to the ground in agony) and walked out the door with dignity.

"Now, what can we give our dear Mr. Potter?" asked Fred, turning to Harry. Ron opened him mouth, but the question had apparently been rhetorical, as Fred continued unanswered. "I think the smartest thing to do would to pretend you're a student Ron met in Bulgaria," he said thoughtfully. "George and I can probably come up with something to give you an accent, and with your dark hair, you're half way there."

"Really?" said Harry hopefully. "Does that mean I can continue schooling?"

"Oh, yeah, I think so. There have been a lot of people who just show up at Hogwarts and expect to start. I mean, there is so many magical people who come from non-magical families, no one can really know who's royalty and who isn't. And no one will risk offending anyone to investigate. You might have to take a few placement tests, but other than that, you should have no problem."

"Here we are," said George in a sing-song voice as he burst in through the door. He had a large collection of strange looking bottles and what looked like candies.

"Now, I have to warn you, Harry," said Fred, an evil grin lighting up his face. "Not all of this has been tested fully." He pushed Harry down into a chair.

Harry gulped. What had he gotten himself into?

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Ginny was feeling mildly annoyed. She hated being kicked out of places (even when she knew full well she had deserved it) and it was especially grinding to be thrown out of her brother's room, where her not-quite-but-hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend was.

Ginny had to smile at the thought of Harry. He was just so cute! She loved his shyness, his sweetness…just about every –ness he had. He was very different from all the other guys she had dated, whether for their looks or her boredom. While most of the boys in the castle, no matter how nice, saw Ginny first and fore most their princess, Harry seemed to consider Ginny a person, and the princess part as almost an after thought. It was lovely. And Harry was just the right mix of everything, well, right! He was sure to keep Ginny's attention after the novelty wore off. Though, seeing how trouble seemed to follow Harry like night follows the day, Ginny didn't predict it wearing off any time soon.

"So guys, is this better? I don't want to offend your delicate sensitivities…" she trailed off, noticing who was in the room. Her brothers were gone, but there was a new boy standing in front of Ron's full length mirror. "Er…hello? Who are you?" The boy turned.

He had very short, sandy blond hair, and blue eyes sparkled from a tanned face. He grinned at her, showing a row of very straight, very white teeth, before his jaw dropped. He was very tall, nearly the same height as Ron, and there was a light brush of freckles across his nose.

"Hi Ginny," he said, running his hand through his hair, which Ginny realized her brothers had changed, a rather frightened expression on his face. That simple movement sparked a light of recognition, and Ginny gaped.

"Harry?"

AN: Ok, I need to ask, what does everyone think about… Draco? Good guy? Bad guy? Bad guy that becomes a good guy? Please Review and tell me!


	12. you duel with trouble

Harry was a likeable person. He was kind, and brave, and thoughtful, and an all around extraordinarily good guy. However, he was also a boy, and, like many young men his age, he enjoyed looking at pretty girls. This was not to say he was rude, or in anyway unkind, but he was susceptible to moments of weakness, which no one could reasonably blame him for. Of course, not many other young peoples' object of lust was a princess, who was not only perfectly capable of looking after herself, but also had six older brothers, a king for a father, and the entire British army to bestow great amounts of pain on "inappropriate" on lookers. Thusly, Harry usually tried to keep his staring to the barest of minimum.

Unfortunately for Harry, Ginny seemed to have made it her personal mission to thwart Harry Potter's intelligent plan. After all, what other reason could she have for waltzing back into his room wearing something utterly gobstopping.

Ginny had left in a short white night gown. She had returned in denim shorts, a straw hat and…what looked like a bra. Harry felt his eyes practically pop out of his skull.

"H—hi Ginny," he sputtered, trying to stop himself from staring at the huge amount of pale, creamy stomach she was showing below her top. Or, heaven forbid, what was showing _though_ her top. Ginny's huge brown eyes widened.

"Harry?" she gasped. "What are- why- what happened to you?"

Harry smiled weakly. _Eyes on her face, Potter, eyes on her face._ "Like the disguise?"

"Oh, yes, it's wonderful!" she said, beaming. Then her smile turned mischievous.

"Like the outfit?"

"Yes! Wait! I mean, no, well, I mean…" he trailed off weakly. "Isn't it a little…showy?" Ginny laughed.

"It's not underwear, Harry," she said matter-of-factly. "It's called a bikini top. It's a type of swim suit. Everyone wears them nowadays, and I was thinking of going in for a dip." The beaming was back, and a single eye brow rose. "Would you care to join me?"

Harry had never before appreciated what a wonderful activity swimming was.

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"…so then Fred and George released this huge load of fireworks in her room! We didn't catch all of them for another two weeks! I don't think anyone expressed any interest in marrying either of them, at least until Alicia and Angelina," Ginny said, giggling. Harry too was having trouble concealing his amusement. He was having more and more trouble remembering Ginny was a princess.

"Ginevera!" called a low voice. The two teens whirled around to find, to their horror, the king coming towards them. Ginny groaned and sank lower in the pool, pulling Harry with her, so that only their heads were left out of the water. "Ginevera!" he said again, sounding shocked. "What on earth are you wearing? And who is this young man?"

Harry and Ginny were both floundering for something to say when a breathless voice called, "James! Ginny!"

They turned to see Hermione fairly flying towards them. Her hair was looking frizzier than normal, and her face was a rather frightening shade of pink.

"So-sorry, your Highness," she gasped, skidding to a stop besides the king. "This is James, er, Alexander, uh, Ryland. He's a friend of Ro—er, Prince Ronald. He's from… Luxemburg. Ronald met him while he was in Bulgaria." Here, she spared a glance over her shoulder, and Harry almost took a step back from the expression on her face. It was a glare that promised horrible retribution for running off the way Harry and Ginny had.

"Hum," said the king thoughtfully. "And how do you know this, Hermione?" he asked shrewdly. Hermione blushed, whether from the king knowing her name or from the question, Harry wasn't sure.

"Uh…" she said, throwing a desperate look at Harry and Ginny. Harry had no clue as to what to say, but Ginny did, as she immediately said, "I told her, Daddy."

The king and Hermione both turned to look at her. "Oh?" he asked, his eye brow rising in a look reminiscent of his daughters'. "Yes, I met him in Bulgaria too, and well, I needed so girl advice," said Ginny, reaching out and stroking Harry's hand, where it was clutching the side of the pool. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, and from the look of the king, he nearly did too.

"Oh," said the King. His eyes grew even wider. "Oh!" he looked uncomfortable. Harry knew the feeling well. "Er, darling, I, I understand, I think…but, why not just ask you're mother? I mean, I know she would love to help, and give, give…advice. But," added the king, seeming to realize exactly what Ginny was implying, "You are far too young to date anyways! Especially some boy I've never met!" Harry could feel his face burning. Hermione was coughing madly behind the King, obviously trying not to laugh, and though Ginny still had the same angelic expression on her face, the hand that was hidden by the wall of the pool was twirling a strand of her hair nearly faster than Harry could follow.

"Oh, Daddy," said Ginny, shaking her head. I'm not about to go to Mum for advice. I mean, it's just not done! And I'm 14! Nearly 15! I'm quite old enough for all sorts of things!"

The poor King blinked, looking horrified. "You mean, asking advice from parents is, er, out of fashion for you young people?"

Ginny nodded briskly, seeming to be all business. "Exactly."

The king seemed on the verge of speech, but he just looked from Ginny, to Harry, to Hermione. He sighed, and visually steeled himself. He nodded to them, and carried on his way, deep in thought, whistling what sounded like the Mario theme song. All three teens watched him until he was out of sight.

"What do you think you two are doing?" growled Hermione, all traces of laughter gone from her face. "Ron, Fred, George, and I have been looking every where for you! Have you forgotten that you are in hiding, Harry Potter? You are trying NOT to get noticed!"

"Oh, relax, Hermione!" said Ginny airily. "Not being noticed is the easiest way for Harry to be noticed! We're all royal! Being unnoticeable is simply not something we do!" Harry thought this to be a rather confusing statement, but Hermione looked thoughtful.

"I never looked at it that way before," she said, gazing at the sky and tapping her chin. Harry sighed in relief. Hermione was scary when she was angry.

"Well," Hermione said briskly, "it was still horrible of the two of you to run off like that. We were scared that you had been discovered or something!"

"You were scared, 'Mione. Not the rest of us," corrected a voice behind them. The turned to find Ron, Fred, and George walk up. Fred and George, seeing Harry and Ginny, immediately Transfigured their robes into swim trunks (Fred's was electric green with tiny bright blue "F's" decorating it, while George's was orange with yellow "G's") and dived in. Ron came to stand by Hermione.

"What happened to you two— Ginny! What the hell are you wearing?" asked Ron, sounding outraged. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Not you too!" she moaned. "Spare me the lecture, Ronald, Daddy's already taken care of it."

"But-I-well," sputtered Ron. He seemed torn between brotherly concern and, well, brotherly indifference. He compromised by jumping into the pool, changing his robes into swimming trunks mid jump.

"Whoa-ho!" said Fred, sounding vaguely impressed. "What did you just do?" Ron grinned lazily, expelling a stream of water from between his front two teeth.

"Hermione and Harry," he told his brothers. "Hermione was telling us about clothing transfiguration a few days ago, and then Harry wanted to try it, and we sort of started trying to out do each other, and well, Harry did this cool running blur thing, and I convinced him to show me how to do it."

Strictly speaking, this was not an entirely true recount. Hermione had been reading a book about Transfiguration, but it was Ron who wanted to test it out, and it was Ron who took several minutes to convince Harry to a competition. Ron had learned that, while Harry could be extremely shy, he was also fiercely competitive, and was quite a challenge to beat. Once you could convince him to play, that is.

"My dear Mr. Potter!" said Fred grandly. Harry jumped as Fred and George both threw an arm over his shoulders. "You have been hiding things from us!" the chorused. Harry blushed faintly.

Ginny decided to take pity on him.

"So you, I've been thinking…" she began. Fred and George immediately took off for the other side of the pool.

"Run!" yelled Fred through a mouth full of water. "She's been thinking again!"

"Don't you two have, I dunno, work or something?" Ginny asked her brothers curtly. Harry would have thought she was angry, except for the tale-tell twitch of her lips.

"Work?" asked George blissfully. "What is that you speak of?"

Ron snorted. Ginny rolled her eyes, and ignored this.

"Ask I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," she said pointedly, staring across the pool. Fred twiddled his fingers and George hummed what sounded like the theme from "Rocky".

"Seeing at summer break is in a week," continued Ginny, "do you two want to join us at our summer house?" Ron perked up at the question, and gazed intently at Hermione. She gasped.

"But, I thought… the royal summer house? But I thought that was only for the royal family!"

Ginny was unfazed. "Well, sort of, I suppose. But we're allowed to bring guests. It's just that no one had, that's all." Ginny shrugged, unconcerned, almost as though breaking tradition was a daily occurrence, which, Harry mused, seeing as its Ginny, it might be.

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Harry's first day of school was not like many other first days.

For one thing, he knew pretty much none of the material covered in any of his classes. For another, he had a professor following him around, despairing over the fact in front of class-full's of strangers.

Harry had never realized exactly how advanced the higher classes were till he partook in one. Harry had never heard of protective enchantments, the topic his Charms class was reviewing; he had never done cross species Transfiguration, and he hadn't even known dragons had hair, much less that they were used in 397 apparently easy potions.

"Goodness, Ryland, you are alarmingly behind," said an exasperated Professor Marchbanks, Harry's evaluator, outside of Herbology, where it had taken Professors Marchbanks and Sprout, plus Sprout's teaching assistant Neville Longbottom to free Harry from a Long-Limbed Fly Trap. "What do they teach you in Luxemburg?"

Harry blushed. "Well—"

"Defense!" gasped Hermione. Harry spun around to find Ron and Hermione, Hermione panting after sprinting from their last class. (Ron wasn't even breathing hard.) Neither of Harry's friends had been in any of his classes.

"Really?" said Marchbanks thoughtfully. "What DADA class is next?"

"Ours," said Ron hurriedly. "The fifth years."

"Well, Ryland, lets see what you can do," said Marchbanks, waving her hand in the direction of the Defenses classroom.

As the group made their way to the class, Harry walk steadily, looking calm and collected. He was feeling rather ill.

"Good afternoon," said Professor Lupin, who was fairly young, though his hair was flecked with grey, as Ron, Hermione and Harry scurried to their seats. "Now that we've all arrived," he sent a stern, though good natured, look in their direction, "we can begin what I believe will be a very interesting lesson.

"Now, most of the teachers are probably reviewing with you, yes?" there was a general nod of agreement. "Well, I personally feel like you deserve a break, seeing as OWLs are now over," there was a shudder through out the class, excepting Hermione, who just looked tired, "I thought we could have a friendly dueling competition."

Loud whispers, like tiny hissing fires, broke out across the class. Most people pointed to the back of the room, which was covered in mats.

"To keep this fair," started Lupin, ignoring his class. The room was silent instantly. "I have put half of the classes names into this hat, and the other half will chose who they are going to duel. The people whose names are in the hat have a variety of standing in the class. Once the first round is complete, and yes, the duels will be happening simultaneously, we will pair the winners again, and the second round will begin. It shall continue in this vain till we have one person left."

"Professor Lupin," started Professor Marchbanks, standing up. "You have a new student today. We are trying to place him into an appropriate class."

"Ah, yes," said Lupin, smiling at Harry. "Well, we do have an odd number of people in this class, Mr…?"

"Oh, Ryland, sir, James Ryland." Lupin's face flickered slightly when he heard James, but then the smile was back, and Harry felt his nerves ease a little.

"Do you feel comfortable, Mr. Ryland, with partaking in this competition?" asked the Professor. Harry considered.

"Yes, I think so," said Harry hesitantly. If this were any other class, the answer would be no, but Defense was what Harry was best at.

"Well, I'll just stick another name in the hat, and you can choose when it's your turn," said Professor Lupin kindly, rummaging through a drawer and picking a name at random.

He held the hat out to a round faced boy Harry realized was Neville, the TA; he was obviously not nearly as comfortable in Defense Against the Dark Arts as Herbology- Neville gulped and reached into the hat.

"H-Hannah Abott," read Neville. A short, blonde girl shot Neville a smile, which he attempted to return.

Soon all of the members of the class had names. Harry was the last to choose, so when he reached into the hat, there was only one choice.

"Draco Malfoy," he read. Ron groaned slightly, and Hermione looked nervous.

"What?" Harry hissed at them, trying to spot his competitor past the gossiping girls on his left.

"Draco's a bit of a—" began Hermione.

"A git," finished Ron. "Unfortunately, he's also the son of the wealthiest nobleman in England." Ron made a face. "Which means I have to be nice to him." Hermione looked slightly scandalized at Ron calling an obviously important person a git, but she didn't deny it was true. Harry's stomach swooped, and he ran his hands through his hair, unintentionally making it stick up even more (Fred and George, for all their enchantments, had been unable to make Harry's hair behave).

Professor Lupin cleared his throat, "Everyone, please find a mat at the back of the room, and begin in the basic dueling stance."

Harry hurried to comply, extremely grateful that his defense class had begun dueling already, and that he knew what to do. As Harry caught sight of his opponent, however, that gratefulness lessened.

Draco was one of those people who had obviously been trained since birth to be better than anyone else. Even Ron, with all his wealth and power, did not exude the same sort of arrogance and influence Draco did. He looked at Harry with evaluating eyes; obviously, he did not think Harry was worth his time. He glared at Harry, and, in a show of bravery he did not expect from himself, Harry glared back. He would be in such trouble when the truth came out, but Malfoy reminded Harry of Dudley, his cousin, and Harry _hated_ his cousin.

"When I blow the whistle, you may begin," shouted Lupin. "Three, two, one!" the high pitched sound of the whistle was masked by as sudden shout of spells, which filled the room.

"Stufey!" said Draco lazily. Harry easily side stepped the spell, and sent back a Stunner of his own, which Malfoy barely dodged.

Harry immediately felt a change in the pace of their duel. Malfoy bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes; he began to throw spells at a furious speed, all of them with a much greater potential for injury. Harry was able avoid all of them. He silently thanked anyone who could be listening that Hermione had always pushed him to work far beyond his grade level when it came to defense.

Harry quickly put up a reflecting shield charm. Draco scarcely had time to raise his own shield to keep from being hit with his own Freezing Charm before Harry shouted "Tarantallegra!" and "Expelliarmus!" in quick succession. Malfoy was able to keep the shield up long enough to avoid the Two-Step Hex, but the force of Harry's Disarming spell broke through Malfoy's shield and sent him crashing into a wall, his wand sailing through the air. Harry held out a hand and the wand fell neatly into it.

Harry became aware, suddenly and much to his surprise, that the whole Defense class was watching him. Even the Professor was starring. Apparently Draco and Harry's duel had been the last to conclude.

"Well…that was excellent boys!" exclaimed Lupin, obviously trying to recover. "Mr. Malfoy, excellent as always, of course, but Mr. Ryland, that was extraordinary! You have quite a talent!"

Harry blushed. He sneaked a look at Malfoy. Draco's face had turned an interesting shade of pink. He had a rather ugly expression on his face, and his hands were clenched into tight fists.

Harry gulped. Something told him he had just made his first enemy.


	13. you dine with royalty

Harry lay, half asleep and basking in the warm sun, on his stomach, his arms his pillow, and his glasses in the sand beside him. Term had ended three days ago, with Harry revising right up to the end (though he was still having a bit of trouble with his Bubble Head charm, the topic of his final Charms class). Professor Marchbanks had been slightly reluctant, but had finally agreed to allow Harry passage into the fourth year classes— which were, in all honesty, a year below him— with the strict promise that, should his grades drop below an Acceptable, he would move down. Harry knew that Hermione had already drafted him a summer lesson plan to help him keep up, but Harry didn't let this discourage him too much; Ginny would be in all his classes except for Defense against the Dark Arts. And then, Ron and Hermione would be with him.

For the moment, however, Harry taking a short respite from his studies. The royal family had left for their summer home the day before, taking Harry and Hermione with them. Luckily, the royal children were given a vehicle separate from their parents, which meant that for four wonderful hours Harry could wear, if not his own face, then his own name. He, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred and George, had spent the time talking, playing chess, eating junk food, and, in Hermione's case, reading in a stretch limousine. (The car had no driver, which Harry found extremely unnerving, much to the amusement of Ginny and the Twins. Sure, magic was amazing, but, really, must it be tested on cliff side roads and dangerous one-lane streets?)

Harry survived, however, and upon seeing the royal summer home, he forgot that he had ever doubted magic.

In was probably the most amazing house he had ever seen. Tall and rather narrow, the house was warped, and fragile looking. Rooms, like giant blocks, had been stacked onto of each other as if by a child, who had had no thought was to whether they were aligned. Sharp angles jutted out from all points, and a staircase was clearly visible from the outside, almost as if there had one been solid rock, and a man had carved rectangles out from around a column. It did not look possible, and as a slight shiver fell over him as he walked inside, Harry guessed magic was the only thing keeping it up. Ron had told him it was called the Burrow.

A sudden shadow blocked Harry's sun.

"You're up early," said Ginny, plopping into the sand. She was dressed in a light colored sundress, and her sandals were in her hand.

"It's nearly 10 o'clock," protested Harry, sitting up. "I was waiting for you to wake up." He smiled shyly.

Ginny beamed back, throwing her hair over one shoulder. Harry watched, fascinated. Even after all their time together, doing homework, talking with Ron and Hermione, and swimming, Harry couldn't seem to get enough of Ginny's hair. The way it moved, the color, the feel… Harry cleared his throat.

"Well," she said playfully, lifting one eye brow. "I'm awake now. What did you have in mind?" She moved closer to him, positioning her slim body against his legs and leaning into his chest. Harry stopped breathing momentarily.

"Oi!" called a voice from the house. "None of that now, you two!" Harry jumped, but Ginny just giggled, and wrapped Harry's arms around her waist.

"Shush, Bill. We're not doing anything wrong."

He had met the remaining Weasley brothers, the one's that didn't live in Hogsmead, the night before. William, the oldest and heir to the throne, was the one making he was towards them; sadly for Harry, he was also the scariest.

Harry had no idea why Prince William frightened him so much; Ginny had laughed the first time he had mentioned it. He supposed it was the way Bill walked, and talked, and did pretty much everything that scared him; Bill was the future ruler of Harry's country, and try as he might, Harry couldn't seem to forget it, the way he often did with Ron, and Fred and George. On the other hand, with Ginny, sometimes he had the opposite problem; he couldn't seem to remember that she was a princess, he was just commoner, and they'd have no future together.

Of course, then Harry would have to remind himself that the princess probably wouldn't want a future with him anyway, and he would fall into a rather unhappy mood.

Bill stopped in the sand before them, his arms crossed and his long red hair flying in the breeze. He opened his mouth to say something (Harry guessed it would be further admonishment) when sudden clamor of bells caused all three of them to look up sharply. A huge, gild carriage rounded the corner, bells hung on the bridles of six beautiful white horses. A grin blossomed across Bill's face, and he walked quickly (for princes should rarely run) towards it.

Ginny sighed unhappily.

"Fleur's here," she muttered in response to Harry's questioning glance. Harry nodded, though he was still slightly confused. Out of all the royal family, Harry knew the least about the future queen. He knew she was French, and was rumored to be part Veela. She was the elder daughter of the youngest prince of France, and ninth from the French throne. She had married Prince William two years ago, though they had yet to have any children. She spent the majority of her time touring England with Bill, or at her family home in Paris. Harry wondered if the lack of familiarity between Fleur and the rest of the family was the cause of Ginny's discomfort.

Harry and Ginny stood, and made their way to the carriage, where the rest of the royal family was gathering. Harry shared a smile with Hermione, who had caught his eye from where she was standing with Ron in the front of the crowd. Harry's smile grew larger when he noticed their hands tightly intertwined. Harry was happy for them; Ron was good for Hermione, and Hermione was doubly good for Ron.

The door of the carriage opened slowly, and Harry suddenly understood the Veela rumor. Fleur, princess of France and future queen of England, was probably the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. Her white blond hair was up in an interact mass of curls and braids, and her large blue eyes, devoid of make up, seemed to fill her face. Her dress was cut from gold cloth; it seemed to have been designed to emphasize her tall and thin figure, and the silvery radiance that seemed to emanate from her very skin. Harry could feel his jaw dropping, and a strange, blank feeling began to take over his mind. Then Ginny shifted slightly besides him, and Harry looked down at her. She wasn't looking at him, her weary gaze resting on Fleur. Watching her and the way she bit her lip in thought, and twirled a lock of her beautiful hair, Harry decided that he didn't care how many Veela-girls there were on the beach. He had the loveliest one standing besides him.

Harry sneaked a look at Ron. Ron's mouth was hanging open, thought he had surely seen Fleur many times before, and there was a slightly vacant look in his eyes. Then, as Harry watched, Hermione nudged Ron, looking more than a little annoyed. Ron shook himself and looked down at her, grinning apologetically. Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of her self. Harry snickered. Ron had just saved himself a lot of groveling.

"Fleur!" said Bill happily, helping her down the steps. She smiled radiantly at him, giving him a quick kiss.

"Ah, Bill, I have missed you," she said in flawless English. "I have brought my sister with me, Gabrielle." Fleur waved a hand, and a small figure ran down the steps, stopping at its foot and curtsying. Gabrielle was beaming at them with wide, light blue eyes, and her cheeks were flushed. Her hair, which was the exact same color as Fleur's, was long and restrained by a simple pale pink head band, leaving it to fall down her back. The pink sundress she was wearing only seemed to heighten the sense of innate innocence surrounding her.

"'Ello," she said. Her English was not quite as good as her sister's. "It is nice too meet you," she added, walking around to shake everyone's hand. She ands Fleur were introduced to Hermione and Harry as well. Gabrielle seemed pleased enough to meet them, but Fleur just gave Harry a passing glance, ignoring Hermione completely.

"Come, Gabrielle," said Fleur briskly, taking Bill's hand and Gabrielle's shoulder and steering her into the house. "All this sun is not good for you're skin. You might get freckles!"

"Bloody Merlin," muttered Ginny, her freckle covered cheeks stained a light pink. Harry quickly hid a grin.

"Come on Ha- er- James! Let's go swimming!" Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to the water. Harry laughed, looking back over his shoulder and motioning for Hermione and Ron to join him.


	14. you dive into danger

The next morning, Harry woke up to a pair of big, brown eyes staring down at him.

_That's interesting_, he thought sleepily, rolling over and reclosing his eyes. Then they snapped back open, and he jerked up. The blurry, but still beautiful face of Ginny giggled back at him.

"H-hey, Gin," said Harry weakly, reaching out for his glasses. Then he remembered he was still under the spell Fred and George had cast on him, and rubbed his eyes a couple of times, activating it. He rolled out of bed, thankful he had decided to wear the simple red and gold pajamas Ron had bought him, instead of the Snitch and Broomstick one piece footie pajamas the twins had got him. Harry blinked as the eye spell came into full potency. Ginny was looking at him with the oddest expression on her face.

"What?" he asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. Ginny just shook her head.

"Do you want to go boating today?" she asked, effectively changing the subject.

"Boating?" Harry said, feeling slightly puzzled. "Like fishing?" Ginny laughed slightly.

"No, no. I mean, we could just take a boat and go…sit. We have a small party boat, really easy to manage and a lot of fun. We can go swimming and have a picnic!"

In spite of himself, Harry felt a buzz of excitement race across his skin. Ginny's happiness was infectious.

"Sure," said Harry, before remembering something that could potentially cause a problem. "But… Ginny, I can't swim," he admitted, feeling a slight blush cross his face. Harry could make it across the river, if he fell in (as he had several times; that's where the Dursley's got their drift wood), but that was but a couple yards across; he couldn't stay afloat for much more than that. His aunt and uncle had taught Dudley, of course, but they had neglected to teach Harry. In his darker moments, Harry sometimes wondered if they hoped he'd one day drown.

Ginny just grinned.

"That's ok. You don't need to. We have lifejackets."

Harry almost argued one could still drown, even with a lifejacket, but then he remembered; magic. Those lifejackets would probably only activate if he panicked and they would probably lift him out of the water, instead of just make him float.

Harry, after politely booting his princess out of the room, changed into swim trunks and a shirt. Even though it was alright, fashionable, really, for men to swim without shirts, (Ron had taken to doing practically everything without a shirt, and though Hermione had pretended not to notice, Harry had caught her shooting Ron's bare chest a few appreciative glances) Harry was not nearly comfortable enough with his present company, or, in all truthfulness, himself, to do so as well.

Grabbing a pair of shoes (a strange, royal-type thing called a "flip-flop" that was easy to put on and take off, but entirely impractical), Harry ran out onto the beach. Ginny was waiting for him, with a small rowing boat pushed onto the shore. It was white, and, in black letters, the word "Nargles" was written on the side. Harry had no idea what a nargle was, but he decided not to worry about it. He had been doing a lot of the lately.

Ginny jumped lightly into the boat (in truth it was more of a scramble, but princesses should never scramble, so Harry didn't mention it) and Harry, after shoving it fully into the water, followed her. They both grabbed an oar and managed to make it to the middle of the lake. Of course, Ginny didn't usually row, but Harry had no idea what he was doing, and Ginny decided his need was greater than her own.

Finally, the pair made it out to the middle of the lake.

"Merlin, the sun feels great!" said Ginny, stretching out across a bench, her feet dangling over the side, and her head on Harry's leg. Harry chuckled slightly, leaning over and running his hand through the clear, clean water. They sat like that for a couple hours, talking and laughing, Harry forgetting, during that carefree time, their social positions and letting the two of them be just Ginny, and just Harry.

The sound of rowing interrupted their moment, and both Harry and Ginny looked over to see Fleur and Gabrielle, Fleur with a large umbrella over one shoulder and Gabrielle in a simple sundress, being rowed out by a manservant.

"Ugh," groaned Ginny, sitting up. "Why does _she_ always have to come and interrupt everything?"

"Hello, Ginny," called Fleur primly, as their boat floated closer to Harry and Ginny's. Once more, she pretty much ignored Harry.

"You should not stay out in the sun so long," said Fleur seriously. "And without a proper chaperon or anything! It's very unladylike!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry had, since Fleur's dramatic arrival, learned that she was constantly trying to shape Ginny into a "proper" princess. Ginny had a hard time putting up with it all.

"Yes, well, thank you, Fleur. I will keep that in mind," said Ginny, her polite words over shadowed by the biting sarcasm in her tone.

Fleur opened her mouth, a rather offended look on her face, but a loud splash turned everyone's attention to the side of the boat.

"Gabrielle!" shrieked Fleur, her thick, heavy skirt hindering her movements. "She can not swim!"

Harry didn't hesitate. He kicked off his shoes, and dove into the water.

Harry immediately realized this was a very stupid idea. He spotted Gabrielle immediately, but try as he might, he couldn't seem to reach her. His swimming skills, which were limited to the short length of a pool at best, did not help him in the least 6 feet under the waves. And, while at the surface the water felt warm and inviting, deeper down, the lake had turned cold and scary.

As Harry grew more and more uncomfortable, as his air supply began to run out, a strange sensation ran from his fingers to his toes. He blinked, as the darkness began to lighten, and the water became a cool, pleasant temperature. Harry looked down at his hands which, to his shock, had become webbed and elongated. The same had happened to his feet. Harry gasped aloud as a sharp, searing pain cut along the side of his throat. His strange fingers trembled as they felt the odd, flapping skin at his neck—he had gills.

_What the bloody hell is going on—oh Merlin. The lifejacket!_ Harry had wondered what would happen if he went under. Now he knew.

With renewed strength Harry pushed himself down. He was amazed at how quickly his flippered feet propelled him, and the rushing water didn't disturb his vision in the least.

Harry caught up to Gabrielle, who was sinking slowly, her eyes closed. Harry felt a great rush of fear. Was he too late? But, as Harry wrapped his arms around her small waist, Gabrielle's eyes fluttered slightly. Harry nearly cheered, but kept control of himself. They weren't out of this mess yet.

Harry shouldn't of worried, however. As he neared the surface, both Ginny and Fleur met him, Fleur taking Gabrielle, and Ginny grabbing Harry's hand. The four of them broke the surface, Gabrielle coughing and sputtering and Harry wincing as his neck seared once more. Taking a large gulp of air, he felt assured that the gills were gone.

"Thank you, thank you!" gasped Fleur, swimming back over to them (she had just deposited a waking Gabrielle onto the boat). She threw her arms around Harry's neck, nearly causing the two of them to go under again, and kissed him on both cheeks. This frightened Harry more than his impromptu dive into the water had, but he was soon saved by another boat pulling Fleur out of the water, this one containing Bill and several other princes, which had been called for by Fleur's manservant.

"Come on," said Ginny, pulling Harry away from the commotion and back to the boat (as the flippers were gone too, Harry found this short swim much more difficult).

"These lifejackets really work," said Harry with a grin, allowing Ginny to climb aboard, before scrambling on himself. There had to be some sort of spell on the thing, Harry mused, as they had had a much easier time getting back in then they should have. This though, however, and all others melted away once he caught sight of Ginny's expression.

"What the HELL do you think you were doing?" she hissed. Harry was taken aback. Hadn't he just saved Gabrielle, Queen-to-be Fleur's sister's life? Wasn't that a good thing?

"I- I, she would have drowned!" protested Harry weakly. Ginny just glared impossibly harder.

"Someone else would have gotten to her!" she snapped, crossing her arms. Harry just gaped wordlessly. He had no idea what he had done wrong.

"I thought you'd be happy," Harry whispered, the uncertainty of his actions conflicting oddly with the euphoria he had just felt. At his words, however, Ginny's towering rage disappeared; she sighed, and her face took on an uncertain, slightly confused look.

"I know, and I don't know what would have happened if Gabrielle died, it would be so awful, it was so brave of you to save her! But… you can't swim, and you were under for so long, and I was so scared…" Ginny sighed again.

"Merlin, I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you feel bad, Harry, it really was wonderful, I just…" she turned her gaze away from him, the setting sun casting shadows across her face, and the orange sky causing her hair to shimmer. Harry felt a small thrill run through him. Something was happening, he realized dimly.

"Harry, I, I think I might love you."

Harry stared down at her in wonder. Ginny's cheeks were stained with a light pink color, but she had swung her face back toward him, staring at Harry with a determined sort of glare. Harry felt a broad grin break out across his face. There were a hundred different thoughts going though his head, but Harry just did what felt right.

He leaned down and kissed her.

AN: Okay, this chapter took forever to get out, I'm sorry, I know it's been terribly slow! This chapter was really hard for me, believe it or not, and I know it still has a lot of issues. Please note it has NOT been beta-ed, so please post any grammatical errors you encounter.

Please Review!


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